Dear Doctor

What happened to the leaves
that grew abundant in the backyard
of your brain? What simple tune
takes hold of your ears
and steers you away
from what you fear, away
from me?

Have you successfully
buried your head under the dirt
of words and words, have you
heard those sirens, have you
listened to them, have you
any remembrance of the voice that
said, "Misery, sweet misery!
once divorced from company,
gives birth to great poetry."

You've probably forgotten.
For it's me again, different pen
but all the same words,
the M-D, the m-e
only one letter and a world apart,
And the leaves... What happened
to the leaves? Do they cease to grow?
I think you know. Dear Doctor,
I'm waiting for you. I stop and I wait
here.