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Tirupathi Chandrupatla


Mailbox Today


Every house
Down the street
Has a mailbox
Each so unique.

Mailman opens
Delivers mail
Receiver picks
At a later time.

In my daily walk
I seem to note
Every mailbox
Looking sad.

Letters no more
Are frequent
And delivery's
Now curtailed.

Electronic age
Has ushered in
Mail's email
In the desktop.

Writing letter
A forgotten art
Only used for
Business act.

Letters written
Recorded memories
Always remained
For generations.

Will those days
Ever come back?
Will the mailbox
Smile again?

Submitted: Friday, April 05, 2013
Edited: Thursday, March 06, 2014

Topic of this poem: age


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