Dear Mrs. Christie,
You have beguiled, bewitched, bewildered and intrigued me
You have subtly embedded your clues ‘round every corner
And each turn of the page has kept me searching, guessing
Trying to solve the puzzle
I’ve sat with Poirot as he employed the little gray cells
And marveled at Miss Marple’s knowledge of human nature
All of your characters have enchanted me
Late night reading, a small bedside lamp casting shadows, creating atmosphere
As I breathlessly turned the pages of a book that I couldn’t put down
I’ve pictured myself along side as they’ve solved the most baffling mysteries
Stories coming to life; plots, places, pastoral and exotic
How did you manage to tell stories of murder with such decorum and finesse?
You’ve captured the heart of the literate world for 56 years
And the love affair goes on
I discovered you in my youth and devoured every book, never satiated
And when I’d read the very last I felt a sense of loss, knowing there would be no more
Now, in my twilight years I long to go back
To start at the beginning and relive that wonderful time of my life
And each day as our world becomes more chaotic and violent
I reach for an old friend, that I may turn the pages
And in doing so, turn back the hands of time
If only within the cover of a book
Thank you Mrs. Christie,
With all my love