
Some say I write like a child with wanting words
With no eloquence, style or knowledge
Some criticize I write like a deaf woman’s dance
With no rhythm and no rhyme
I know not if these words will entice anyone
To feel as I do, or even understand
It may never be known, never be read
For I seek no fame, dime nor applause
But for one thing that I hold dear
To ease my heart and rest my mind
And most of all, I write to you, my dear.