A path into the evening mist -
By smiling puddles gently kissed
By stars above forever blessed,
At midnight's wake.
Where secrets grow on the trees,
And where the gentle western breeze
Calls out and whispers: "Hurry, please,
The answers wait."
A path that winds through dark of night -
Grotesque with monsters full of fright,
Who turn to stumps so dull and trite
With rising dawn.
A path into a magic land,
Where no flowers grow bland,
Where doubts wither, quarrels end,
Forever gone.
A path, so effortless to fly,
With wings that, smiling, forward ply,
Unburdened, freed of every lie
By faithful friends.
A path into the evening mist,
That once a clever traveler wist,
A path, with gems at every twist,
That never ends.
13.04.01
In the park
© Copyright: Маленький Принц, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101041400084
Свидетельство о публикации №101041400084
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