Bluebells & Black Ink.

I recall errant stories, making myths,
Becoming vividly real, and looking like you.
Teary blooms grow from the cursive scrawl,
Written on paper of lilac blue.

An unread letter is still worth writing,
It needs not to be read to make real or true.
Unsent and hidden in the open,
Dreams on paper of lilac blue.

                                   ली.