Dear Mr. Birmingham,
whilst sitting in my den,
I must report how well I
am, with paper and with pen.
Here, glowing city lights
a-twinkle
bright like stars at
night, they wink,
and bid me stop and, of
you, think,
every now and then.
Sweet memories to cherish
when two hearts would beat in sync
within your woodland
glen.
Sweet, my beloved man, I
beg of you to know
not for the fail of love
for you, I had to go.
But for the hope of
dreams come true
amid a neon Xanadu
where people watch and
wander through
a skyline all aglow.
With shops, bazaars,
cafés and bars, with food and music too,
my heart was forced to
go.
Nay, my dear lovely man,
and here I press the pen
to boldly highlight letter-strokes
and make my point again.
I oft recall us by the
pond
on picnic or a secret
rendezvous
that sets my mind to
wander;
long to be back when.
But let me end on this, a
kiss, I think on you with fondness
every now and then.
Dear Miss Penelope, how
great it warms my heart
to learn how well it is,
you be, though we remain apart.
The hound, she often
looks for you
and I myself, it seems,
do too.
Tossed in a bed that's
built for two
I oft awake with start
to face another lonely
day and wonder what to do
to soothe my aching
heart.
For while I could not bar
your way to follow your heart's star,
I could not leave my home
to venture where it is you are.
I look upon my woodland
scene
to view the trees and
fields of green
and nature's creatures,
meek or mean,
how wild and free they
are.
And thus, I must content
myself that here I shall remain
to love you from afar.
Sweet, my love, Penelope,
there sitting in your den,
Know that you’re not far
from me within my heart and ken.
For none could ever touch
my soul
as you or make me feel
more whole,
and knowing you are well
is all
I need, now and again
to keep my fondest memories
of love we shared that
could not be.
What joy to know you
think of me
every now and then.
And ever shall I sit a
spell and think of you and me
every now and then.
No comments:
Post a Comment