Sort some parcel into a mail bag
Place the slip in a wrong box
Somebody somewhere somehow suffers
Count the cost on consumables
And the toll on time bad supplies
The counter hand for box entries
Offers services to the public
With absent mindedness
Testifying to the emptiness
A sorry state of our system
Dead sentence pronounced
On the National Postal service
Still struggling to survive
With middling personnel
In an age of electronic mails
Comments
This is curious.
An interesting subject for a poem. I had trouble with the last line, first stanza. It didn't seem to make sense as though a word or two were missing.
wesley
missing words...
I have added some words to the first stanza to see if it makes sense, the last line reflects a reality here, a decade ago we depended on Post office to read from love ones, paper was all and the transformatiom herald the dearth, today our post office depends on Stamp Duties for the sale of stamps, we write or wire in our transactions electronically. The Post Master is hardly known now. Thank you
tr