Harmony of piano talks to me softly,
All the notes ask me some questions.
It is merry-go-round of euphonious sound,
That brings delicate soul to the high-end affection.
Peonies and tulips so fresh stand by me,
With a whiff of an air nodding to my monologue.
They are not, however, going to argue with me,
Watching me showing my lady-like mock.
I laugh, and a pain, of course, semi-sweet
Covers me from the head to toes.
My eyes dart to the place where an invisible man
Laughs in respond to my delicate jokes.
Tell me, what is wrong? Tell what you think.
Are you afraid of those eyes full of dream?
Those tender hands that don’t rush and don’t dare,
And as smooth almost as whipped cream.
I believe, there are soulmates, still.
Of course, full of trust, and sadness, and rage,
With profound understanding almost to core
That is what makes me deeply engaged.
Tenderness
© Copyright: Адель Вейсс, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125071305857
Свидетельство о публикации №125071305857
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