Much before, when I was older,
I used to write letters to people,
Perhaps, even admired.
But storms are bad things that happen,
And one broke the post office in my town.
The doves died,
And the postmen wept on the floor.
The letterboxes melted like candlesticks.
And I grew young,
And younger still,
Until I was now,
And had lost all the letters in my head.