Alas, poor mailbox! I knew ye well!

Oh, beloved receptacle of hand written letters from loved ones (especially Mom), holiday cards, packages from House of Paper, birthday gifts, Halloween surprises, coupons from Archivers, and, yes, even those pesky bills ... I will mourn your death this day, brutally attacked by a snowplow in the dead of night. I hope you never saw it coming. I pray that there was a sudden swerve and a flash of light, and you did not have time to fear. There will never be another mailbox like you, so capable of accommodating a large flat rate priority mail box. I will miss racing out to you after hearing the postal truck pass by. I will miss opening you and finding treasures inside. Most of all, I will miss your proud proclamation of our address. So many visitors will now be confused to find is right next door to #718.