La Lyra Es, Telemann, Suite Poem by RIC BASTASA

You were wearing a polka dot one piece
Got your pic
From that white sand beach
You look smaller this time
The sadness is not visible
On your face smiling at the
Digital camera

Got your pic

My own pick
Is the sound of the lyre
On polka dot
On a polka dot one piece
Hiding the bruises
In your breasts

There is really no sense
There is really no sense

White sand as hideaway
A smiling face
And a piece of polka dot
Bikini
Can be more accurately revealing
The bruises
On your hips
The bruises
On your breasts

Junk him you pride a kind of your own story
I never believe you, you make no sense to me.

Polka dots, white sand and bruises do not
A true picture make, my dear.