Dear Anne Boleyn
My dearest Anne,
My heart uplifts like a whipped-up fool as I write this letter.
What beautiful sweetmeats you fed me on last night,
I can still feel the tasty crumbs upon my lips.
Your skin had the warmth of newly baked bread.
You brought to my heart, plates of a twelve course meal
that I gorged upon.
Catherine is as dull as a bowl of cold miserable pottage, or
a pigeon that has taken flight from its badly baked pie crust.
I want to hold you in my arms and caress you
like a delicate marzipan.
Let my hand brush your face so soft as a peach.
May your kiss be sweeter than any wine that I drink.
Be the food of my love so I can eat from your hand.
Your body smelt like a field of wild herbs,
I shall add them to my meat.
I will bring you a token of my love,
a deer that I shot.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Annie Ellis would
be pleased to hear them.