Email Poem

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Poem

I write to you, dear Miss Muffet,
who once sat upon a tuffet.
It was sixty long years ago,
when your story, then, was told.
Unfortunate details would unfold 
as a spider's yarn unrolled, 
if you don't mind my saying so.

It's sad to know you were afraid,
on that tuffet seat where you stayed. 
When I was just a child - 
and you were a child (like Annebel Lee)
and for three score years it's seemed to me
that you and I were meant to be,
had fate upon me smiled.

Six decades I've had to rough it,
wondering what is a tuffet, 
and wishing things went better.
While dreaming of your rose-cheeked face,
I've not heard from you a trace.
Your memory I can't erase,
so, I'm sending you this letter.

It's here that I must confess
my ardor, I can't suppress. 
In the tub, I saw you, 
with a thousand adoring eyes.
I was on your boat that did capsize, 
as you would not hear my cries.
Can't you ever love me too?

I'm supposing the question begs,
is it wrong to have so many legs? 
I could be a good provider.
How I would love to slowly trace
the outlines of your silky lace. 
Could you be open and embrace,
someone of the arachnid race?
Awaiting your reply from my ceiling place,
yours, lovingly, "A Spider".

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