My dress was beautiful once
When I danced in gold
My world was made of silver
My secrets were untold
But now my dress is tatters
I dance all alone
My world is made of violet
and my secrets chill the bone
Ah, but what a world it is
Where dancing is a king
And the world itself is priceless
And I'm allowed to sing
What a world it is
What a song to be sung
What a stardard to apply
to some unreachable rung!
YOU ARE READING
Cacoethes Scribendi
PoetryA collection of poems, new and old. My first collection of poetry.
