No. 5

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fly in my room
whirring buzzing…
my unsteady eyes
chasing the
Hungarian dance

night was sombre
whisky bought me sleep
and the sly fly was smooth
on me
like bourbon

51 thoughts on “No. 5

  1. What a beautiful smile, better than any of our miss worlds or universes… I vouch for that! And the joy in the Hungarian dance with a fly! When happy high! (Not to take it away from you, you did justice to her, what a capture) ๐Ÿ™‚

    • And you sure do understand the bouts of self-doubt a poet goes through, quite often. Next time, in such case I’ll visit this page, read your words. Oh, I’m so overwhelmed.
      Thank you, thank you very much Ronnie!

    • Late in the night, I look at my neighborhood and the lit windows, I wonder “God, so many poets? What’s it going to be now!” :))
      Thank you for dropping by. Always a pleasure to hear from you.

  2. Hungarian dance No 5…. When I read “No 5” I think of a perfume… perfume of mystery, of hope… yes, her unique beauty is a perfume… maybe in another life she was a fly, but in this one she is your muse ๐Ÿ˜€

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