Dear Mr. Poet Man,
How do you do that?
You make the most of everything
Even when there is nothing.
It confounds me so to see,
Mr. Poet Man,
The things my heart says to me in utmost secrecy
Written in your words.
How, Mr. Poet Man, do you constantly see
Beauty in all things, Even Death?
I need to know Mr. Poet Man,
How does one die beautifully?
Would I be beautiful to you then?