Surrender to soaking and nasty
Attraction of raining July.
Whatever is making me crusty
Is hidden from all passers-by.
The stage of a dance floor is open,
Yet few feel like going inside:
With legs unpredictably broken
It's hard to keep balance in mud.
The Moon goes reflected in puddles,
And with her irresistible touch
Our inner Napoleon struggles
At last to get rid of his crutch.
Surrender to soaking and nasty
© Copyright: Василий Монахов, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117071609519
Свидетельство о публикации №117071609519
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