How hard is to write by purpose,
Like a stranger who lost the way.
Your mind gets immediately close
And all thoughts are running away.
All words slip away to some places,
The style doesn't fit to the meter.
And letters escape their faces
As if they are frolicsome kids.
Where are you, epithet and metaphor?
Lay down into the line.
Let's open new world of emotions
And let us dispel the boredom.
But white sheet of paper is virgin,
No letter, no word and no line.
My thoughts, where so far do you wander?
Come back to your home – to my mind.