Dear Adrieline,
You are the ‘she' essence, a fanciful minstrel song, a sonata by moonlight
a serenade on summer's eve. A hungry spirit grasping at waking dreams
an old soul well traveled, who winters life, yet searching for the sage
of your heart.
You are one who dares to step further, inquisitive by nature, bold by
necessity, always hungry for ‘something more.' Living life closer to the bone
in solitude, you string words like treasured gold ornaments; poetic language
is your canticle inspired by ancients, for future masses.
You are the solitary angel sitting atop the gilded dome, surrounded by
immaculate prayers and incense, screaming at demons, striving for
perfect happiness; and I feel your angst.
When you sleep tonight, curled beneath sheets, lulled by the thump of
your heart, I pray, that all desires be realized, that words be captured
with savory passion and most of all, that love holds you forever and a day
in its arms my precious niece.
Sincerely,
Michael J. Donnelly
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