You play again this cruel game of yours,
And I would fly away but have no wings.
Your sun was meant to warm me, but I froze,
Your light is dark, your music only stings.
I have to play this silly game of mine,
Which I would try to win, but have no skills,
Which I would try to break but have no spine,
Thus bound to accept your love that kills.
Yes, I attempted to deny your spell,
But realized it’s needless to resist –
If there’s no love inside my heart to dwell,
Then I will have to let your love exist.
The sun you give is cold, but let it shine.
One day its beams might reach the heart of mine.
Sonnet 2
© Copyright: Де Градов, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109121202682
Свидетельство о публикации №109121202682
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