Nothing to write upon today, I mope around with little to do, How come when a writer has the time, The ideas to write are few? Sure today there is no slavery, As once upon a time there was blacks in chains,
Buy the look of an eye shows opinions don't die And , as if bound, the heart suffers times immortal pains...
A gamble on future that may not be And fight against all she's shown... A jump in the dark with the man she loves, Or the comfort of what she has known...
Life, when it is going fast Brings poems fantastic to my mind But when the time I get to write, I've forgotten most... I find.
