A letter of love
He is old, ten years ago he was old also
if lesser in years.
She is his niece, but love is like rain
falls where it pleases.
The Rain in Spain has nothing to do with this
as rain has nothing to do with love.
He wrote a poem about her long hair and sleek body
her dark brown eyes as well.
She cast her head angrily; what can he do a helpless mute.
It was not his intention to do anything about his love for her
dictated for his love for her.
Her indignity she was ashamed her uncle had had improper thought
he wrote the poem out of love.
She doesn’t ring anymore, the infatuation was abstract,
not meant to come to fruition that is not reprehensible.
Love has its rhythm like the ocean’s waves.