The postbox.

The postbox.

Still you were hanging on the side of a post office
with opened mouth and in red attire.
I couldn't find such pityful appeal before.

You were suffering for prolonged fasting
as you gulped very few letters
and had been struggling last few years.

People frowned at you.
Young generation jeered at your appearance.
but I found difference.

Once you were heart throb of youths.
When they despatched or waited
for the interview letters or letters for beloved.

When the sons were in army,
You were the emotions of mothers.
You were the biggest hope for pensioners.

You had lost your fair weather days
and your were standing like dilapidated ruins .