For Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Lost Art of Letter Writing ~ ' The Letter Flew the Wrong Way ~

There was a time when letters were written enclosed in an envelope and thrown over the wall-The receiver would then be sent a text message of ' mail dropped receive please' This particular letter somehow slipped behind the newly placed washing machine on the terrace and was abandoned as lost for many days and so these lines came into being.........

Dear Friend I Wrote I Sent I Waited 

But 

You never received my letter I never knew

And I thought you did not wish to write

You looked for it and did not find it--

How awfully odd or maybe sad you must have been-

When no postal packet there was on the scene;

What strange emotions from the spirit must have risen?

Oh Dear for the misplacement of the letter May I be forgiven?

I never knew that you never set eyes on the paper blue

And I got a message so prompt so kind, “so nice of you’

What brevity of the wit was writ on the mini screen? 

And I thought “a reply, but only words, and words -so few?”

While I was feeling happy at the ink so green------

Ah! Who is to blame for this fallen broken communication?

Who ever thought of raising partitions in a high house construction?

And above all, Nature did not make me so tall

I tried my best to throw the letter high across the wall.

If only I would have been like Thisbe, to speak or see through it--

Or fine fellow Romeo or soft sweet Jerry Juliet

I wish on the beautiful balcony, we had simply- just met;

How you spent all this time

What thoughts crossed your heart and mind?

When the letter you did not find-

That I was insincere- Created a shiver of fear

Maybe brought to the eye, a tear

‘I will never be so near To someone ever again’

I can not bear this stress strain and pain,

Again again and again; You thought-OH I have work to do

I simply can not give time to you—who are you and why you, you—

And I, ME Myself-lifted my heavy self and thought of my thought enhancer- 

My Mother! The remover of encumbrancer,

The kind calm patient motivation romancer,

AH -But herself suffering from the Big C cancer, 

Would never ever get better, ever--

Taught me the lost art of writing letters;

And placing phrases words and thoughts in phonetic fetters;

I wish I had learnt the art of hurling the discus discs

From the Romans Italians and the great athletic Greeks

AH Then, you would have received my forlorn forsaken epistle

And I would have, to inform you, blown a little whistle;

WHEEEEE” Your post is flung across the Berlin Divide –

Come, Princess! Potentate Doctorate! Rise and Collect!

Take time out to write a reply lest the neighbor forever forget;

I never knew……..