Deer Mrs. Brown,
What can I say that
I haven't yet said?
I'm sorry I killed it,
I'm sorry it's dead.
It's lookded so fragile
and sorry the way
its ends turned all broken
and flimsy and gray.
I'm sorry that I was
so clumsy and slow,
blundering round like
my dad in the snow.
Oh, what can I do
that I haven't yet dun?
Turn the time round,
set the moon back too sun?
What can I yell
that I haven't yet yelled?
The world tripped me up
at the spot where I felled.
I felled and I crushed it.
It rolleded, half-flat.
I screamed and it screamed
and it bulged and it spat.
Oh, what can I pleed
that I haven't yet pled?
I'm sorry I killed it,
I wish I was ded.