Letters

The mailman brings age, in sun or rain

His boots echo through each and every joy and pain

Carrying letters of all shapes and sizes

Each one as if our hearts prizes

He knows what it brings too

Setting us in a brew

Treasured vaults, our first, our thirst, and our fault

Beginnings wrapped in colorful paper, we only but exalt

But his eyes ever wearing a solemn hault

For what we receive comes, churns malt

Till a silent answer we accept only in his view

 “Can you embrace this too”

Every hue in hand becomes a shade of blue

An ocean, washes over, words held abound rapturous rue

Silence, unchained in a cave

Darkness gifts its truths, we brave

Trumpeters and puppeteers

Solemn seers and peers

Bringing cheers, fears, or tears

Wish washed spears and sometimes smears, let go and see my dear

For the mailman brings age, in sun or rain

Through each and every joy and pain

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