Oh, why not, I suppose
give unto a shared rose
a moments time a pose
a rhyme to share
and to never be afraid
that beauty will decline
all pristine and fresh
reminds of tenderness
the grey hairs tone
the old gramophone
is still scratching on the
tracks of time
the crooked voice
can pick a choice
from her treasury
to pleasure you and me
the celluloid
should not exploit
but share it's start
until the end
until depart
such Will
such heart
't is Art.
Madrason
for Ksenia Alekseeva
su 26 10 2014
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