A crime to subject you to this paper at hand

This my dear I write for you 
For truth you taught me all you knew
That faithful day which comes each week
Is now the day I think of you

Forgive me for my literary lack
Enlightened by little kids in sight 
Of skittles skip I fiddled deep
Through the forest of muddled tea

Oh I must begin to write my rhyme 
Imagination is almost at hand
For you a lively colourful ink must use
Portraying reality rarely unknown

Tinkling sounds the music play
Made me smile to think of you in range
But write I must this letter out loud
A crime to subject you to this paper at hand.



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