The Letter, 1660
These rustling humans, how they jabber!
With their smudged and crinkling ink dabber
I lie here resting while their investing
Their moments in this blabbered pestering
I've seen their pages scribbled in rages
Of inspiration by their sages
I hear the parchment, crisp and crackling,
Depicting marks pronounced in cackling
And wheezes of a breezes sighs
Read in secret by her eyes
Here in this secluded corner
This one was sent by a foreigner
The rounded man, all clad in fur,
Hears some code, it makes him stir
The thinner man sprouts in his chair
Which creeks beneath his squirming dare
The glamour creature, thin and frail,
Seems neutral about the true tale
I hear a fist pound on the table
Shouting that this could be a fable
"What if it's true?", the other asks
While in fascination he basks
They analyze it for a clue,
This letter, to learn if it's true
The chamber, while closed, is secret, airy
While echo's this secretary
The scribbled riddles held in hand
Are esteemed to be so grand
I might chew them if I could
For I bask in my puppy-hood
Copyright © Lana Evans | Year Posted 2008
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