c0aa98717b645c7669fc8032864f9f95

Emails have wings

they travel in wire

perhaps, made of zeroes

and ones.

What of these flights?

Where goes the winged?

‘they never tire’ — I always thought

They cannot miss,

poor inbox cannot

afford to

be empty,

empty

my basket of precious

patience.

Emails have wings.

Always.

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