I went for a run in the park yesterday and took a pen and paper, because I knew I would want to write to you, and this is what arose:
this inspiration is proving a trial i was not chosen for, because the effort it takes to transcribe electronically all the ink worth telling (or selling as i am still stuck in the wooing state) is eating time sans regards to obligation.
i suppose this trivial consternation is for naught, as i ought to be concerned about truly important things.
i wanted to run all the sorrow away, but the muse did intervene. so i walked with pain in my heart, to whittle away all the bad i did dream
and with a pen in my hand i began life anew. hoping that these words i did write would take me back to you….
the art of love
l.m