Day 20: Writing Letters

Sometimes writing letters seems to be the hardest thing to do. About being honest without the complexity of words, without the facade of rhymes and meaning hidden in lines and yet being down to earth in the approach. I don't generally write letters but I remember starting an experiment that I would try, I would often leave letters, phrases and poetry behind bills of restaurants and bars I would visit. Over time I would never check back on them, I would not wait for a response from the person who would find it or even if they would ever find it scribbled on the back but it was and still is a fun way to communicate with the world similar to why I write everyday. I realized that the approach isn't dated from a friend a few days back who suggested it and though I never understood the reason behind why some letters are read aloud and some are kept secret I honor the idea that relevance is subjective and we often find our own version of it everyday. And hence I write today to writing letters,

Writing Letters
Here's why and if and when I write to you,
    Through the myriads of the day, as I navigate and find my way through
Here's why I bend the rules, why I spend time on saving that which is old to some,
     Those are the little pockets of nostalgia, things I don't forget things that are never gone.

The frosted window from a cold room to the warmth outside,
      Lies the reason I even stare, the reason I love to play when the world puts me aside,
I never reboot from time to time, I only sleep I hit rewind and make up for lost time,
      I figure out things the hard way, the things that aren't explained but are for me to find.

Writing letters to you, writing letters to the world,
      Writing simple things at simple times must never be easy,
Among the first day of autumn, among the reasons we stand tall,
       Among the times I have wrapped my mind around words and still not found poetry

There are days I am stuck as well, days I forget how to write , if at all in time,
       Days I struggle back to the little pieces of the day, and yet nothing fits in the puzzle I hold as mine
Forever building on days on days, forever writings letters in my own way,
      Do you read them all, from time to time, do you revisit them even in small moments some days