Like a Winter robin
Gliding surely through the snowy haze, 
Each word flew from my mind
To the tip of my tired quill.

Weary thoughts laid down in ink,
Spanned the crumpled parchment,
Righteous words so humbly forged,
Lay bare in their stern silence.

Like a young rabbit
Fleeing a fox's dire grasp,
My heart thumped alike,
The sullen fear of what's to come.

Trembling hands carefully folded
The pure revelation of truth,
That which is must be revealed,
That which was must be banished.

But the solemn letter sits alone
Atop my ageing oak desk,
The truth too true to be unveiled
The fear too strong to be buried.

The feeling still sits inside,
Dwelling in the bitter abyss,
A letter lost by the feigning fear,
The truth forever hidden within.