Dear Miss Emily Bronte of the sisters five
How did you create love as a muddled hive?
How dare Catherine defy the love she never hated?
Why did you not simplify love as it was created?
I had often thought to ask of Heathcliff of Wuthering Heights
To know where he ventured in your sights
Miss Bronte, if I may, my curiosity is not restrained
How indeed did you know love so untrained?
It is with love, horror, smiles and grief and memories much
I read your thoughts, those words were such
Engulfed in a mystifying mystery so beautiful
Lord knows what other thoughts lived there and how bountiful
Forgive me, for I meant to take not much of your time ‘
But I have learned this much, at day and night
You are also part of the cult, the kind that creates fantasy
Writers! Your magic remains a mystery