Dear Doo,

My greatest work shall not be exhibited within durably bound parchment. Ticks without recourse shall mummify each painstaking avowal with unpitying dust. Myriad accolades strewn about by eager minds shall inevitably fail to uproar value to soul. The destined sonnet of purpose awaits liberation by a heart's wave.

A lone finger representative of all satisfied flesh shall incise the consummate lyrics upon a mirrored foundation. Glossed by the steam of a necessary rejuvenating flow conduced between two bodies whom erstwhile evaded constraint and subsumed passion. Fading visibility coupled with unpublished recognition will not depreciate the art burst forth from true wild emotion.---Loretta

12:42 AM - 5/28/2008 - post comment

A thief did pillage my familiar.

Vagabond thoughts since unbend here.

The muse's wistful eye may extract a glimpse,

Or elect to veil aforesaid ponders. 

Continuation of flame, blind to your concrete absence,

Vital to sentiments it be not. 

Manifested in words your rooted essence do I collide.--Loretta