All My Views (Un)Fit To Print

The Epidemic Of e  Every morning  The newspaper rocketed into the balcony.  Pages were read, rustled and turned  By my father in silence, seeking enlightenment  About the world without.  I was enamoured by the twitter of birds  Wondering what they were conversing about.  Today, the e-paper has no smell of ink  It cannot be touched or, turned or, rustled.  Twitter is more screeches, shrieks and squawks  Producing a prodigiously perfect storm  In the teacup every day,  By a non-avian population termed Tweeple.  The prolonged shout of “post “  Making my heart pound as I rushed to tear open  Your long-awaited letter with a heart-warming 'Dearest' I replied instantly…  Rushing to the post-office  Standing in queue, exchanging pleasantries with strangers  While waiting to buy a stamp.  Talking of stamps, I’ve preserved  All the postcards from around the world  Arriving with the...