Anatole

Oh we sonnet about the times we never grasp 

or the ones we really do but way to fast

Im boomed in our beutiful ache

or my ache, which is my own that is

you have yours for other reasons i presume 

Its hard. Of course it is. I open my plume. 

Anatole

Yet still it is this urge of going on the brighter side

Be strong through the beuty of life

Someday i will colapse just as he said in someones arms.

Hes such a clever sport, so utterly smart with his words

Perhaps ill find that someone who can bear all that i am,

all the love i want to give. 

Anatole

There our hands were tangeled like

rangers with a lasso first missed

then thrown in a perfect place

Once hoowvered in the catch were caught like

” no we cannot escape this rodeo” it always leave a trace 

And then…how do you tame this wildness of perculiar nonsens

with life songs from the cookoo patteo 

No one of us knew but we rode the storm in which we subsided.

Oh what a wild ride, and it goes on we cant deny it

Anatole

( Are you playing a role?)

Anatole

( your soul)

Anatole

( oh)