I'd lie in bed at night
and write lines of poems.
Cherries simply rained
down on my head, I could
imagine... I like cherries...
The high, fragrant branches!
Slowly I'd get into nerve-racking
sleep, and hear muse's thrilling
voice, telling:
"I love you, my sweet, darling girl!
Please, write a few more poetic
words .., several lines..."
And i did! I was sixteen at the time...
I am a Queen of Cherries...
© Copyright: Путана Бабочка Фиалковая, 2005
Свидетельство о публикации №105031201029
Свидетельство о публикации №105031201029
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