Dearest Penelope,

I’m sorry for not writing lately.
I really must do better.
That’s why I’m here on Circe’s isle
Penning this here letter.
I’m trying to get out of here.
You just don’t understand.
A powerful form of magic seems to
Live in this fair land.
I’ll make it home to you one day,
There’s no doubt to be had.
I’ve got to start to be a Sun.
Before I can be a dad.