The sound of the drums,
To the beating of my heart,
The twiddling of my thumbs,
I was no Lionhart.
Out my name was called,
I got up I swore,
She looked appalled,
She looked like a bore.
I felt it in my knees,
For once again,
I was scared.
For Building A Den? !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem