For L
The bells, they are tolling in the distance.
Faintly, never once stumbling in their melancholic singing.
“The bells, they are crying for me, are they not?”
came the despondent question.
“Yes, I swear I could hear them calling your name,”
was the innocently saccharine reply.
The bells, they continue tolling and singing and crying.
Can you hear them?
