pink roses and letters on wooden surface
Photo by Nur Yilmaz on Pexels.com

Pens that dip into sapphire ink

And draw out lines so elegant,

Words that will not mean the same

In an email, or a text message

Or whatever app we're using next.

Those crisp, cream envelopes

With paper folded perfectly,

Stamped with wax and finished with

A stamp and popped into a box,

Crimson red, a magic slot to other worlds

Where words are read and smiles are had

Or tears are spilled for broken love.

I always get so sad when I see or hear people not really knowing how to write a proper letter. I once had a younger friend who didn't even seem to realise you could use the postal service for communication between friends; she seemed utterly shocked when I suggested we keep in touch by post.

I just think the art of letter writing is something that we need to hold onto. There is nothing more special than opening a card or letter with a real handwritten message inside. And this poem is my ode to the skill that is slowly dying out.

Much Love

Rachel xx