Postman Poem by Mehta Hasmukh Amathaal

My eyes are ticking towards door
I am restless and rolling on floor
I have spent sleepless night
So much to loose without any fight

In olden days, the postman was prime figure
We will run towards him for making it sure
The letter must be delivered in our hand
Else it would be love failure with tragic end

She had promised me to write in return
I had seen in her eyes clear positive turn
She was very much willing and eager
I too felt the same and became anxious either

I heard the footsteps of old man with post bag
He was inching forward by wearing the postman’s tag
He was addressed as postman uncle
Very honored figure and known in circle

He is fortune teller for all
Good smile comes at letters arrival
No one ignores this gentleman but always welcome
As he is the medium for all good or bad things to come

He is the only one man in entire village
Known as calm person having come off with the age
Has spent entire life and ably managed
You can depict him as most wanted man on page

There may be many more waiting for good news
Some may be very eager to receive the dues
Some may be waiting for the quick reviews
As a whole he wanted by all and not by few

I still remember his mild smile
He had brought a letter which had traveled from miles
It carried my soul mate’s sentiments
How happy was I when received with those comments?

Even if I have to pay any special homage
I shall do it for him and inscribe as sage
No one can deliver the happiness and smile
As he does it for society and village as well