Rapping, rapping at my chamber door...

To my Lovely Yr Ones.

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visitor," I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door--
Only this, and nothing more."

This past week, there have been many rapping,
Rapping at my door.
Are they of substance and real?
Or are they just tapping,
and nothing more?

There came a moment,
where I thought it real.
but is it my imagination?,
or is it just frills?

Should I be happy, and perch in the sun?
Or should I be weary,
taking comfort in the warmth of my chamber and blankets,
and rolled up in a bun.

And so I have thought through,
when the rapping insisted.
To trust in the actions and lyrics,
that you have created.

Let Ashtrees and Birchtrees,
and the loud calling of the Jaybird.
To tap me on my head,
with their branches and cause me great pert.

May you be glad now that I no longer hesitate.
To choose who is the first and who is second.
Look between the lines now,
and you will see them penned.