Sometimes, Poet goes to the party.
Neglecting solitary for awhile.
Searching words in the open air.
"I hope I can find the most beautiful poem here."
This night, I'm very proud with my most colorful body.
On an arrival, I try to change my suffering card with a glass of laugh.
"Please, don't forget that tear of the card.
It will toss in the end of the party," said a man with the shoe,
who standing aside the door.
He's a waiter or the man who guests waiting for,
just because on their arrival, he becomes the first goal.
But my welcome drink isn't finished yet when I very shock surprised.
"Why the loneliness of mine is here too?"
Maybe silently it goes, just before the door unlocked.
To it I doubtfully walk.
"Ah, are you invited too?" It faster asks.
Between felt peevish and ashamed, bashful I am.
When I bow my head, again I surprised: I wear the wrong shoes!
“Don’t worry, it’s a shoes party. You can take a chance
dating the most ideal ones somehow.”
I still haven’t any clue, why my solitary
is very comfortable by now.