Why at these hours,
Why at these days
Have died my flowers
Of love. Just full space
Is in my fillings,
And the cold is in heart.
I have lost my dream's wings...
May be i'm not smart?
Why it's so easy,
But it is hard?
My soul is busy
In her, in her heart.
What happened?
© Copyright: Павел Постольник, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102032500255
Свидетельство о публикации №102032500255
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