Clarence. Clear, cold, gray
Clouds, cliffs, the splashing spray
Sulky seagulls, sullen sky
Silky seaweed rotting dry
Drizzle dripping tears of rain
Seagulls crying out in vain
Broken driftwood litters the beach
Birds beyond my mortal’s reach
Wind and stones, bare and bland
Someone’s footsteps in the sand
As the seawaves recede, advance
I whisper softly, “Hi, Clarence.”
Clarencе
© Copyright: Андрей Белл, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104040101509
Свидетельство о публикации №104040101509
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