Traces and tracks. Barefeet on the sand.
Seems like a hostile penetration.
Same as temptation to pass border line
crossing an enemy state.
Traces and tracks. Barefeet on the sand.
Step on a soaking temple.
Red like an apple, rising in mind
clod of the sun in my hand.
Traces and tracks. Barefeet on the sand.
A novel she scrawls on a ground
hastily bound to dare remind
of the tenderness story she meant.
Следы босых ног на песке
© Copyright: Graff, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102060300312
Свидетельство о публикации №102060300312
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