Dear Pen Pal,
I hear the weather is nice, if that's still something people say
If only the filler introduction to a conversation they wish to delay
Yes I'm doing well, trying to chart maps and make plans only to hear God laugh
Pinning timelines to events of gravity, making sure they align with points on some graph
I heard you received an A in cartography, it was only the pawns you had to interchange
Marking where you grew and where you repaired - I imagine you're thankful for the exchange
I'm gathering you set fire to those old utopian fields, left their existence like that of an imaginary friend
A mythical kingdom so far back in your memory with no land left to defend
I must say, I'm so glad this letter arrived, I at first had the wrong address
My return is now 12 Grimmauld Place, should you need it nonetheless
I must admit there is a conversation I wished to delay - it was only curiosity, at least in the beginning
But it seems it's turned into a thought I keep returning to, as I noticed your letters keep thinning
When sleep carries you to her palace, is it ever the train of time that serves as your transport?
I imagine you're forced aboard in frustration if so - between us, I know you dislike the laws of tort
Does it take you to when sharp glass once lied its' head in your lap, leaving not a graze to your skin
If the broken fragments ever cut you when they shattered, it's unbeknownst to me from your constant grin
In your next letter please do tell - does your train make stops along the way?
Perhaps the sun shines so brightly on you now that your eyes remain closed while the ride is underway
Any clarity from you would be of great help, this fog has rolled in heavy as of late
When I re-read the book, the stories look different, all these new understandings I've managed to create
It's like a house I built but doesn't exist, a lost city of Atlantis to which I'll never return
Forgive these analogies I so often use, I do hope my turn of phrase is something you can still discern
Oh just before I forget - there was a favor I meant to ask of you
If not too large a burden, I was hoping for guidance on a talent of yours I wish to pursue
Mastering how to make my bed without lying in it, no I don't mean this insincerely
There is a grace to how you arrange the pillows as graves to bury hatchets whose weight makes you weary
I am sure your plans for the evening are soon to begin, I'll work to make the rest of my letter brief
I truly often wonder if that sharp glass memory returns to you or has the passage of time stolen it like a thief?
I sometimes take the same train mentioned above, you know, as part of my commute
But I noticed you're never aboard - a fact with which the conductor I continue to dispute
We must cross lines occasionally, I know we left notes in the same margins
Tell me - does your train offer a stop by my gardens?
I really must be off, I have a mind to return to -
In the photo attached to your most recent letter, I must say the Neptune's effects look lovely on you
Don't forget all the questions I asked or else I'll wonder for ages,
Only if you could write your answers in invisible ink, you know how I love to over analyze the pages
Take Care,