Commoner
I am incapable
In my existence
To fathom the love that I receive
It is not ever same
Everyday the envelope takes a distinct figure
Adding to my muddle
Each day it alters its scent
But it boils me to think
How is it love if days can recast it
Or is it that
My feeble mind
Is incapable of
Knowing the love of the titled
For my letters if ever posted
Would always smell the same
But I do know
I am incapable
Of grossing a response to it
As it would be dull to love a commoner
For who has known only one scent
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