The letter box soaks up our news,
And, deep inside, it gently chews
The mail that carries news that’s sad,
And that conveying news that’s bad.
There’s a letter here from Aunty Pat
Who says she’s just deloused her cat,
Whilst Uncle Mark is sick in bed
With something that we all should dread.
Now here’s some news I think you’ll like:
It’s something good from Cousin Mike:
He’s passed exams which means that he
Can enter university.
A birthday card, and it’s for you -
Sent by your very kind friend Sue.
The letter box reads words above:
“To Jane from Sue, with all my love.”
A parcel’s now popped in the box
Containing lovely woollen socks.
That granny’s just a little gem:
She sat for hours and knitted them.
The love letters, the cards, the bills;
The kindly message of goodwill;
The mail that causes others grief;
The lengthy ones and those quite brief.
The letter box now falls asleep,
Whilst inside mail lies in a heap.
The postman comes at close of day
And transports all these words away.
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