I Write this Letter, while Dark, Heavy Storms,
Gather quietly in the Heavens, to Plot Mayhem.
My Fingers Wrestle with stagnant Pen, as I
Assemble Jumbled thoughts of just what to Say.
Each Word placed delicately on Soft lined-paper;
Standing at Attention; waiting for further orders.
And Gradually, the Smell of Fresh Roasted Coffee
Overwhelms the Area in which I'm compelled.
This Letter is to a Person who unknowingly needs
Its Humbling Contents and rewarding Outcome.
'Dear Author, ' are the First two Words of this
Gaurded Manuscript that Glows within this room.
I Write this unread Letter with slow hurried pace.
I Fertilize Sentences with Long and Short words.
Each Paragraph Swollen with Ideas of Promise.
As I complete thisTask; bringing it to a Close;
And Sealing it in its Stiff White Suit of Armor,
I Realize that Words were Written and Not Read.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
" Sealing it in its Stiff White Suit of Armor, I Realize that Words were Written and Not Read." what a solid conclusion to a very persuasive poem. Enjoyed