Just a letterbox

Every day, someone stops by,
gives me letters,
says goodbye.

It’s not like I read them.
It’s not like I could.
But when I get bored, I look at the covers,
as you would.

Some are printed.
some are hand-drawn.
Artistic curves. Well-thought-out lines.
So much love, it is divine.

Stamps from all over the world,
pictures of places I won’t ever see.
And yet, I get to enjoy them this way.

It gets boring sometimes,
stuck here, day in, day out.
But when I feel lonely, I remember that
I’m not alone, ‘cause others live in this flat.

I see them when cars pass by,
just for a second, their outlines like mine.
Some are plain, others are not.
The decorated ones stand out from the lot.

So many people pass, yet no one looks up.
Sending texts on their phones.
The real beauty of letters already forgot’n.

But what should I say,
I’m just a letter box,
I was made this way.

You know, the thing that makes my day
is people finally receiving the letter
they asked for in pray¹.