I met Emily Dickinson on the edge of the wood
With paper and pen in hand
Know not what she wrote but knew it was good
As I've always been a fan

Looking at me she gave a sly wink
As if I understood
How strange it was that nature does not knock
And yet does not intrude

She then curtsied in a goodbye gesture
Handing me a rhyming book
Whispered,,,happily ever after
Before she vanished in the wood