A Different Profession

No one yet knows my new calling Now that my profile has changed, I reside in a cemetery A settlement prearranged. Once upon a time long ago People sent their post through me, My job was that of a mailman Carrying mails was sheer glee. The times have changed so I believe As machines now carry mail, Besides, they do other things too And am told they never fail. Glad that I am dead and buried Happily doing a task, Which no machine can replicate For it's quite beyond their ask. Been assigned to push up daisies And I push up roses too, Am sure no machine can do that Whatever else they may do. Machines make not a warmer world They have not the soul to care, I yet endeavor to do that Which no invention can dare. ***********