Dear Sir, Your stories amuse my mind,
Your tales are sad, but be so kind,
To tell myself, who writes to you,
About how to tell a tale or two.
I do not think, kind sir, that I,
Am currently on an emotional high.
Please understand that I am sad.
My life is a curious thing I've had.
My clock tock-ticks, which I find,
Can perplexify one's befuddled mind.
My dog is blue; my hamster's sick.
And my tortoise broke my walking stick!
Oh! Alas this cane - t'was made of wood,
But ebony is rare thing, which should,
Be taken care of at ALL times.
I don't just use it for stairs to climb.
You know, my cat once spoke to me,
It was such a peculiar thing to see.
Its nostrils flared, its tail whipped about,
It's speakings made my soul to doubt!
Kind storyteller - am I mad?
There are many more happenings I have had.
Why, just the other day, at home,
I opened my door - ended up in Rome!
Which I think you'll agree is rather strange.
Living in Spain does affect your age.
I think you'll see I'm stuck for a tale.
My life is queer and it makes me frail.
I have nought a thing in life worth left,
Unless I were to commit a theft!
But, ah, a theft I once beheld,
It was such a thing to make my heart melt.
When all at once, those chaps got away.
But that is a tale for another day.
I hope you can offer tips on how,
To tell a decent story now.
I am confused - I wonder why?
But still, I await your gracious reply.
Created: Jul 24, 2010Document Media