The Letter
I wrote you a letter
Plain as day
The pained way
From the heart.
But not because
It’s too sick
To bear to watch
What I did today.
But because noone knows
How many days between today
And the joyous bells,
Which when they ring
Mean too late to say,
“You’re Beautiful.”
I wrote you a letter
Plain as day
The pained way
From the heart.
But not because
It’s too sick
To bear to watch
What I did today.
But because noone knows
How many days between today
And the joyous bells,
Which when they ring
Mean too late to say,
“You’re Beautiful.”
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