Relics

Snail mail they call it 

The people of today 

There’s a lot of physical effort 

To send your post this way 

Off to the shops 

You’ll need a small loan

Paper pen and envelope

The price will make you groan 

Add a postage stamp 

With a picture of the King

That’s even more money 

Alarm bell start to ring

On the way back home 

The rain begins to fall 

Your envelopes are getting wet

They’ll be no use at all 

Once at home you pull up a chair 

Grab a towel and dry your hair 

Then sit and stare

At a blank piece of paper

What was it you wanted to say 

After an hour

A few words had appeared 

Not perfectly spaced,

 or spell checked 

But hand written in ink

With mistakes scribbled out

Then signed, 

with your very own signature 

Now where’s my address book 

It’s a long time since I’ve seen it

It’s covered in dust,

and the staples turned to rust

Now it appears to the friend I am writing

I have no address at all

So I’ll drop them a text to find out their address

Why didn’t I just do this before?