Somewhere there’s a vivid glade
Roamers’ raptures don’t abate
The vicissitudes of fate
Make them find any escape
Threading their way through thorns
They ran into divine stones
Dazzled by unearthly gloss
The men laid down on bright moss
Having followed a harsh route
They discovered loads of food
And abounding kegs of brut
Lightening up the roamers’ mood
There was a hare in that glade
With an orange spangly face
Purple fox in a lace dress
And boar - six-pack abs
They encountered a hoofed maid
Who seemed utterly insane
The queer rovers popped champagne
Danced like that was their last day
After hours of the rave
The men snoozed right in the rain
At the start of the next day
They ate mushrooms along the way
Wonders
© Copyright: Рита Данилевская, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121092201562
Свидетельство о публикации №121092201562
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