Met her in an alley
My first impression startled her 'probably'
Told her I am sane allegedly.
She heard me rhyme
Foretelling a crime
I played her the classic Tchaikovsky
But I and her never shared a bottle of whisky
She loved me of her own volition.
Verbatim of Emily Bronte
Saw her on the eve of my revolution
She kissed what they called my lips
Before I died on her arms.
Eight hundred and seventy two songs on a playlist
We only danced to one.
The man died but she let the idea live forever.
Marvin Reeds
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem