plaisir-ecrire

You left me yesterday,
I could not write a rhyme,
A muse inspires more than a line,
Yet she comes to me today.

Do you believe in what you say?
You lie because your rays shine,
She is ready to be mine,
Remember that you left me in May...

She and I are walking on the water,
You are crying on your papers,
You don't want her to be prettier.

You hate all the lovers
And you especially hate her
Because she is my new soul sister.