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Going to Him! Happy letter!
Tell Him—
Tell Him the page I didn’t write—
Tell Him—I only said the Syntax—
And left the Verb and the pronoun out—
Tell Him just how the fingers hurried—
Then—how they waded—slow—slow—
And then you wished you had eyes in your pages—
So you could see what moved them so—

Tell Him—it wasn’t a Practised Writer—
You guessed—from the way the sentence toiled—
You could hear the Bodice tug, behind you—
As if it held but the might of a child—
You almost pitied it—you—it worked so—
Tell Him—no—you may quibble there—
For it would split His Heart, to know it—
And then you and I, were silenter.

Tell Him—Night finished—before we finished—
And the Old Clock kept neighing “Day”!
And you—got sleepy—and begged to be ended—
What could it hinder so—to say?
Tell Him—just how she sealed you—Cautious!
But—if He ask where you are hid
Until tomorrow—Happy letter!
Gesture Coquette—and shake your Head!
Solomon Slade Jul 2014
Chaos lives and thrives all around
Hiding in the shadows of our minds
Whispering unspeakable deeds and it feels like we drown
Faster and faster as time speeds along
Chaos sings an unsavory song
Fear and terror spreading to and fro
But no one can hear, no one can know
There is a violent war booming about
But to others it is silenter than a shout
For know no one can, no one can know
Or I will be locked up all alone

— The End —