It’s an exciting game,
Searching for the hero or victim,
Trampling corners in vain,
Falling in love or trickling.
It’s an exhausting feeling,
When nothing is seen as important,
When light’s unimpressively diming,
When ice under foot has been rotten.
It’s incomparable action,
With various masks on one scene,
With positive roles attraction,
And being the worst of the men.
It’s an exclusive moment,
Created by You and the magic,
Involve the awe in your sonnet,
At last make it trivial or raging.
Awe of Your sonnet
© Copyright: Маргарита Воеводина, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112021208032
Свидетельство о публикации №112021208032
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