She played me like a fiddle;
Tuned into my thoughts and dreams,
Read me like an open dictionary;
Knew how to solve the riddle,
And so it seems;
She was nothing revolutionary,
Just another pretty face;
Gone almost without a trace,
Leaving me in wondering;
Sitting and pondering,
How will I ever solve this puzzle;
But I must return to my hustle,
What keeps me grounded;
While all others are dumbfounded,
I keep my head clear;
Undistracted unable to hear,
The melodious song of those sirens;
Beautiful and enchanting; oh how it lightens,
The spirit and mind;
Leading many astray,
Their purpose behind;
And as they break though the fray,
They all crash and burn;
For all this I refuse to take a turn...
(05/28/2010)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem