Dear Mr. Harlon Rivers,
When I was young,
I wrote like a young man,
With fervor and righteousness,
But heartfelt was not eloquent,
only self-satisfying.
Now that I am an old, old man,
My mind does the best it can,
Simple lyrics born in the poverty
Of a mind in an angular decline.
But never did I command the
Troops of this language that
You have under your command,
At this, your peaking, your apogee.
Your master key unlocks all
And set our souls soaring,
But yet we cannot reach you,
For you orbit at the point farthest
above our modest reach!
Your Admirer and Devotee,
_________________________
Please sign your name below if you agree.
You know how.
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
Dear Mr. Harlon Rivers,
When I was young,
I wrote like a young man,
With fervor and righteousness,
But heartfelt was not eloquent,
only self-satisfying.
Now that I am an old, old man,
My mind does the best it can,
Simple lyrics born in the poverty
Of a mind in an angular decline.
But never did I command the
Troops of this language that
You have under your command,
At this, your peaking, your apogee.
Your master key unlocks all
And set our souls soaring,
But yet we cannot reach you,
For you orbit at the point farthest
above our modest reach!
Your Admirer and Devotee,
_________________________
Please sign your name below if you agree.
You know how.
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