The pencil walks impatiently on the paper,
the words flow
like wine on drunken nights.
How I feel - only the heart knows!
The eyes wander aimlessly,
imagining a caressing hand.
From hopes I build a palace,
if it collapses,
I say it was wonderful.
The silence of the night stretches out its arms,
let the free thought wander...
The pencil walks impatiently on the paper,
the words flow
like wine on drunken nights.