I'm sorry son
My days are far gone
Noon and night closing in
Sunshine always on the show
Words few
But mentioned are the workings of the mind and lips
Which comes first or never shows up
Is lost to the train station of rumbling tasks.
How could that ever be the reason?
What do I for?
The end isn't earning
The end isn't enthralling
The end spelled in a moment's fault of mind
Whispered through the tech of things
Willed I brokenness of heart
I lose
It shall never be a gain
To say my name
To say your name
But how we do end for my fault sake
Will ever be my nightmares
We do owe the souls and beats of dearests plus of the race
The fortitude to be honest,
To be there,
To be whom we have to be.
I write thee not for the sake of time lap
But for the future, i have a God play his desires
And I the mortal go blank almost all the time
I the mortal wouldn't learn what mortal can do or should do
Or how inappropriate things could be
I am sorry son
My mails will be yours for eternity if we chose to tarry in pleasant distance.

Yours sincerely