I never thought that letters promised oh so much
Did the writer realise?
When he sent his endless clutch.
Loving ones,happy ones,some to make her cry
Sensual ones,friendly ones
Then one to say goodbye.
Letters are like people
Each a story all it's own
Why oh why she asked herself
His wild oats he'd not sown.
Letters are his dream world
Just a game he plays
Emotions are just many words What a fool she says
To swallow all his pretty lines
Believed his love was true
It was only letters
He thought she always knew.
Never would he leave that place
Rut though he is in
Unless of course he writes some more
And another he takes in.
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