What turned simple be came complicated,
now I am an institution that is imitated but never duplicated.
Once a letter just to say hi, or a note of undying love,
but always in a slit or box I am to be shoved.
I travel from state to state or nation to nation,
but some times I never make it to my destination.
I am held in packs or short large trucks,
and posted and stamped to go to air for a couple more bucks.
I am sent with joy or maybe a little bit of concern,
but when my lid is open my secret you will learn.
They say I am carried by rain sleet or snow,
just stamp me at a cost of thirty-five cents I am ready to go.
Drop me in a slot and wait if you can,
for that is and was always the plan.
Now they may delete me all together with this computer age,
for now mail is given to e-mail that's set on an electrical stage.
But whether it be paper or screen you will see,
I am mail the thing that gives you information and that is all I wish To be.
