How magnificent it must be to be written about.
Your name replaced by descriptions of the way your pink sumptuous smile looked in the shoddy light of your living room last night.
The people read his paper for entertainment.
So could you call it progress?
Possibly character development.
To read about yourself flourishing into the miscreant you were always destined to be.
How engrossing it must be to gradually watch that pink sumptuous smile turn into nothing but a starless hole.
The critics are bored and dehydrated. On their hands and knees, they beg him to compose more.
That's why he stays in the living room and stares at me.
He waits for me to make one wrong move.
But there is no more life in this room.
Only a pen and a subject.

I am left to wonder if you really do appreciate music like you say.
Because after you stopped looking me straight in the eyes,
I became blind to the passion and melody that you claimed pulsed in those veins.

A whole day adventure
And we didn't even have to leave home.
Your mind is a castle full of gypsies and forgiveness and understanding and gratefulness and extraordinary orange skies and classical music that even heavy metal lovers find themselves falling in love with.
You spread love to everyone and anyone.
You say I always remember it better than it was.
It is innocence that drips from your lips when you say
"Good bye"
I beg you to shut your mouth.
But mansions with longer tables and clearer skies call your name.
Please. Continue to send books.
I turn these days and starry nights into imaginative literature so they never die.
I will never forget you, Princess.

Warm affection runs through every syllable when you utter,
"I delight in the way you write."
At these words
I am left to wonder if my life has reached its peak.

You remind me that the magic of growing is not all but gone.
With you,
There is always enough sound
And never too much racket.

I write to you, for you, and with you.
You obtain the unfortunately rare talent of valuing human life
And appreciating its art forms.

Your mind is a small business.
Not ran by a King,
But by a little Prince.
A perfect mixture of complexity and simplicity and understanding.

Today I compose a melody of thank yous.
To both you and the universe for giving you the brain you have.

Thank you for inspiring me, making me think, and bringing astounding music into my life.