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