I think about your mailbox.
It is still getting things
Addressed to you,
Still loyally accepting
Tributes to your memory.
But where you were,
Another someone is;
As you once were
Where some other
Someone had been.
And maybe their mail
Still comes, too.
The great chain of being,
Kept alive by robots.
Do I think of you more often
Than your mailbox
Gets your mail?
Which of us has been
More loyal?
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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