Three Years Down The Line

Three years back on an April’s morn
In some jaded lives a spark was born –
This group was formed for e-mail chat,
To laugh or cry on this and that.
But lately all seems, oh, so bare,
Those lovely mails are hardly there,
Though we’d started bright and bold!
To think we’re all but three years old.

At first we had some fun and games,
Three score members, guys and dames,
Mail box full of memories,
Two line wonders, tall stories.
But somewhere some have lost the thread,
Perhaps busy earning bread.
At this rate this group will fold;
Alas! We’re only three years old!

A few souls still take precious time
To pen some lines in prose or rhyme
And keep us young and fresh and cool,
And form a sprightly cyber school
So hey, you silent childhood fren’
I want to hear from you again!
May we strive for silver, gold
And become more than three years old.

Today is one more April’s morn,
A sparkling time, when hopes are born,
So come on, pal, ignite that spark,
You can’t type? Well, simply bark!
Or boo or hiss or laugh or wail
But for God’s sake post a mail,
Do resurrect us from the cold
Though we’re only three years old.

(This one is about our school e-group, which started with much fanfare but is slowly dwindling into oblivion, or perhaps not!)