Words are printed with ink
On white trees
To tell us a story
Whether it’s one to be blue
Or one that rejoices our heart to heaven
A story, it always tells to be true
Here away in this far forgotten land
I thrive for each story of heart
Each ink filled line from edge to edge
Everyone round tipped word
And every dotted “i”
For every word that is said
In every letter sent to me
No matter how hard the mission is
I come back with the company
Your letters give me strength
Your heart helps mine live
I wish I could write u this letter
But I cannot say a word
It’s not because I don’t want to
And not because it won’t reach you
And not because I don’t love you
But because the last letter you sent
Was known as “Dear John”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Bod, wisdom is not a privilege bu a virtue given to u by the Might One from above to share with the rest of humanity....You have that privilege....Keep it up...You got what it takes...go for it...God Bless You...! A well penned poem! 10++++ Love and Peace...