I found an old and torn envelope on the road,
With a withered and wrinkled name in bold.
It must have been carried by wind,
or after writing the writer did rescind.
I was unsure and anxious to open,
coz, if I did what would happen?
But, I had to else how would I know for whom is it?
It might have contained inside some type of hint.
I opened it carefully and found the words,
scribbled and scattered around,
Some cuts and wipe off signs,
The only line that could make sense,
was “To me, you’re Perfect”,
And the remaining meaning, one can easily predict.