Dear Charlie

Dear Charlie was what was written on plain paper in ink stain bouts.

Oh, why would a friend leave without a goodbye, his mind ached aloud.

Where the waves crashed no more and over the walls of a mansion, vines grew and rabbits skittered on acres of green.

Charlie became ill and all he knew was the words the walls caterwauled.

Clocks ticking, Marco skipping, Hayley scampered far away, his family was there to help him through his bitter blue dingy, lonely days.

Oh what a rigmarole is this sort of a tale!

Rianna Shaikh has been writing books since rabbits were devouring carrots in Jardin Des Tuileries in Paris. She adores reading children's literature whilst sipping tea in the Brookvilles. Though she's an American, she simply has been swept away to the days of Beatrix Potter and the mystery of secret gardens and so. . . Dear Charlie has unfolded as a tale somewhere in Long Island. Oh, the hurrah continues. . .