A shelve filled with bottles of ten
In a room with a pouring squinny dawn
Each with thousands of emotions of women and men
With each fantasy of a character and a pawn
And there it mellows our spirits and our souls
With beauty hidden in each reflection
With laughter and tears, are written in its scrolls
And written in the bottles with perfection
Glasses of bottles, making twists and turns
It makes an agenda of horrors and joys
A curled smile of shapes of urns
Together with high pitches of noise
I found all thousands, but wouldn't share
It's a puzzle, that couldn't be explain
It's a secret which is stuck under my hair
And a mystery that is part my pain
