Another Lost Art

The crisp piece of paper will never meet ink from a pen
There will be no beginning, there will be no end
Nothing to read later to bring a smile to my face
People will be forgotten gone without a trace
No personal touch on anything that can be recognized that a person ever existed
Who needs a stamp when the emails listed
Can’t dust for finger prints or see a finger print smudge
They’re will be no scratching out or mistakes you can not budge
No anticipation of something coming in the mail
You won’t be able to unfold paper and I don’t think it’s fair
Those extra steps taken sometimes mean more than what’s inside the envelope
Even if what’s written doesn’t make me laugh, even if it’s a bad joke
A chain letter or whatever it still took effort
Something I think in which we should find pleasure
Pleasure in the beginning or maybe the end or maybe in the body
Or maybe the color of the pen
The pen that you bought so you could write what you thought
To someone that obviously meant a lot