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Maria Guzvic
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CAN YOU CURE ME?



Having been struck down
By this peculiar illness
I am wondering
Which way to turn

How this crafty bug
Got its grip on me
Has me worried
And is a great concern

I am suffering
From a bout of romanticism
Now there's
A name to diagnose

Seized in the fingers
Of passions sweet light
Visions that enrapture
With the scent of rose

And now
My days slip by
In a pink
Frosted bubble

My once
Sensible eyes
Are discovering sight
That is making me see double

I really really am ill
Oh please, is there a pill
My sense has flown
And oh boy, am I in trouble!






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