The post box holds our dreams,
our hopes, our worries,
It take messages to far off places,
pays bills, consoles loved ones
in foreign parts.

Once inside, that little envelope
cannot be withdrawn or cancelled,
it will fly off in the arms of the
Royal Mail to its destination,
quickly, efficiently.

Thousands like it,
little white envelopes,
little brown envelopes,
small and large and buff
envelopes

and a few small boxes
squeezed into that red pillar box
where dreams slumber,
worries fester
and gifts glitter.

Dear George,
My most precious friend, I'm so sorry for your loss

Dear Sir,
I'm happy to accept the position

Dear Ann,
I'm so sorry I won't be able to come

Dear Mum,
I'll be home for Christmas

Dear Tom,
Please accept my condolences

Dear Jane,
I feel it's time for me to retire

Dear Santa,

So many messages, so many lives……

Ruth Walters

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-post-box/