Dear Mr. Trump,

I hear you don’t read, not even a page of material. Yet, I think you could pull yourself together to enjoy the following poem. It’s in your honor, Sir, written way before the 2016 election. I’d love to hear your thoughts about it.

How Began Our Fall

When we pulled down our open arms once held out

To bleak, wandering masses, and predictions proved too true,

Ballots led straight to tyranny, because you,

 

My fellow citizens, had voted for the fool.

You prayed for concentration camps, cheered the deportation force,

That 2016 election, like 1932, brought death to a once-great nation.

 

You begged for a great big wall and locked us all away,

Plunging us into downward spiral; and thugs grabbed their guns

To target mosques and everyone brown or black.

 

No turning back, no way out, no second chance.

Right then I knew despair for my grandson’s generation.

I knew to mourn the world he’d never recall.

 

Thank you for your inspiration, Sir.

Very truly yours,

Bruce J. Berger