She wanted them to know
So she read them her poem
They wanted more and
It became a chore
So she curled up on the floor
Started a new rhyme
For herself
But she missed the light
That shines so bright
Of lime
She made up her mind
She would publish it this time
Collected her letters and scraps
Found his office on the map
Went walking in the wind
Not knowing the trouble she was in
She tripped and fell
Her poem did as well
Laying in the wet gutter
Pages Blowing around like clutter
She tried to save them
But the devil was within
Her every movement heavy like a sin
The pages washed away
But In the mud the words did stay
Written in a curious black ink
It said I wanted them to know what I think..