Will you write to me
Of fallow fields
Or bounteous yields
Of herb and spice
To brighten the palate
Or bury the dead?
Which is better stated
In a letter created
To satisfy the need
To get a bead
On where we are headed?
What would your words mean to us?
What would it matter?
Keep your words off the page
Or I ‘ll be mad as a hatter
Before all is said
And I am done.
No letters, please.
No promises.
No warnings.
Better to believe it all
Will look better tomorrow.
annarino writes 