I’m glad she walks upon this spinning world,
I’m glad her eyes are full of emerald laughter,
We have a common sword – it’s called “The Word”;
We met, and laughed, and wrote – what happens after?
Perhaps we’ll talk in million other tongues –
Telepathy and admiration, both included;
Perhaps we’ll both be stunning and be stunned,
Adventurous, artistic, even ludicrous.
I’m glad she walks beneath the laughing stars,
Herself – a star, a Muse of many faces;
These lines cannot be wrong, they’re years tardy;
The lines to come are magical, I fathom.
She walks the Earth, but what of being mine? –
Who cares? – She is, because I write and rhyme…
November something or other, 2014
Sonnet for a simple-exquisite, true-fancied girl
© Copyright: Маленький Принц, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114112301374
Свидетельство о публикации №114112301374
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