The book I bought yesterday
I started to read.
I found a small marigold
Pressed between leaves.
And in that small marigold,
Well, I found a note
Saying, «Please won’t you write to me
’cause I’m so alone.»
So I’m going to write back today.
Yes, I’m going to write right away.
I started «Dear Marigold,»
Not knowing her name.
«I just had to write to you
’cause I feel the same.
«You sound like the marigold
That I found today.
The beauty was there to be found
But fading away.»
So I’m writing to you today.
Yes, I’m writing to you right away.
As I started righting,
Well what can I say?
I got to thinking
Where are you today.
Brown leather cover,
Ripped, tattered, and torn.
It’s been such a long, long time
Since the flower was born.
There’s no need to write back today.
I’m not going write right away.