He did not hand her a letter
That happens in another story
But it was the same magic they wore
Those messengers of glory
To us who were only waiting
To be overwhelmed at last
By what we always wanted
Just to be loved so we
Ourselves could learn to speak
Its rugged language one day
Fluently with a feel for the vowels
And how the tongue rolls
In the mouth how the lips
Shape the meaningless sounds
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