The ruthless time with a steady pace
Charcoals your image in the glass,
Entangles the longing for the spring
With the poignant scent of mowed grass.
In blushful candor of the tree
You touch the beauty of the bloom,
In rustling of the moistened street
You sense the calmness of your room.
You pick the canvas and the paint
To blend the colors in the age:
To braid amusement of a child
In timeless wisdom of a sage.
Your craft is delicate and fine,
It keeps you up until too late:
In your submission to the love,
In your acceptance of the fate.
Woman
© Copyright: Tamara, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101011100031
Свидетельство о публикации №101011100031
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