#1957-Gone by

Hand-written letters,

Are now obsolete.

Yet it’s all I had,

Growing up.

Foreign stamps,

On blue envelopes,

Inside a mailbox,

Close to our house.

Thin, soft pages.

Different color ink.

Uneven lines,

Recounting stories,

Painted by hand.

Now-a-days,

An inbox receives my mail.

No envelop or stamp.

Written in black,

Always on white.

Me, I still enjoy writing,

As in the past.

For in between the lines,

They also carry memories,

From simpler times,

Now gone by.