Lately
I’ve been thinking
About how people
Used to write
Letters.

They’d send them
Across the sea
And wait.

One month.
Three months.
Five?

But so much
Can happen in a week
Much less
A month.

We each have a clock
With an unknown.

Minutes that countdown,
minutes we’ve wasted.

An indefinite supply
Of a definite number.

Tell people
What you would write
If you knew
Something would happen
In the month you waited
For a reply.