Our meet didn’t turn up idle,
But final was all a freak,
Together we’re unfit for bridal, –
A metal and wooden stick.
I idle myself about,
I hoped for a lovely word,
Our knot could’ve knocked teeth out,
Of any unfriendly sword.
We parted as no one brains,
As dumb rams in a farmyard,
How should I regard remains,
That make me like a retard.
Our union’s an immolation,
Of one of the gods of yours,
Is our find a deportation,
From moral and righteous shores?
In parting days I’m all flimsy,
As an overaged device,
The meeting was just a whimsy,
And volatile as a vice.
You won’t get back to the haven,
Where ship decommissioned tends,
Too bad, I’m not your raven,
The banished one from the friends.
Too bad, I m not your raven
© Copyright: Александр Нагний, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125032600398
Свидетельство о публикации №125032600398
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