PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Of course I shall refrain' lament,

Of how far it be the letter was sent,

And the niggling doubts that etch and scribe,

Upon my small life in due the time;

But before I look my eyes deceive,

In the background to letter received,

I am only a lowman, poet, tech,

And she; the world it is her tent,

Hurry, hurry, roll-up, roll-up,

To see the wizardry all encompassing stuff!

But lo' I have fallen, let it be said,

For she wrote the letter in red.



Yet in reply I should pen a sonnet,

To put on the bumper to kiss someone's bonnet,

But the soul and sacrifice leave it undone,

For alone I still am, the unworthy son.

To crack and to crevice my furrowing brow,

The words would look meek any-old-how,

In comparison to the dove that flies,

And sits here looking through your eyes.

But as all good soldiers I must be forgotten,

As the vision fades with tears on fine cotton,

But lo' I have fallen, let it be said,

For she wrote the letter in red.