the man of La Mancha
if you mind
he lives in his own mind
he has his
Dulcinia, the bartender
who slept with
a lot of drunkards,
he has his windmills
to conquer
he has his impossible dream
when he begins to sing
we cry
when he was gone
we remember him
and then we laugh again
for what we have not become
after all
we are too impossible
every blood is
thin
like the cowardice within.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.