The Letter

The letter has been written.
The gift has been sent.
I hope it won’t instill the guilt-ridden.
I hope it’s accepted as it’s meant.

To sit there for hours.
To think there for days.
To remember what was once sour.
To put it down in oh so sweet a way.

I wish that it isn’t so hard.
I wish that it isn’t so painful
I could have given her a card.
But instead I gave her a handful.

Now stand back and count down too.
Now sit down and wait its time.
Because there is nothing more that I can do.
Because I can’t think of anymore words to rhyme.

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