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