Take from me;
make of me
what you will.
But write my script
with finely feathered quill,
and don't coach when I've slip't.
Stay with me;
say to me
you'll not go.
But paint my scenes
with steady brushstrokes,
and don't tell me what it means.
By your side
I won't hide
anything.
But sing your lines
with voice softly loving,
and I'll open up like fine red wine.
Heart open wide,
pride cast aside,
lost without you.
But play your stage
with superb surprise in review,
and I'll never try to escape this cage.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really enjoyed this one....love the last lines...great work