A picture at the bottom of an old wallet

Float ecstasy in white and gray!
The river circles grander than a nimbus.
Her past: passed crossroads, memories play.
Her locks, her voice, her touch – a chorus

Sonorous, that wants to sing “Rejoice!”
And yet, to joy, no ode can I master.
For in her memories  - I am a fleeting thought.
Goodnight to you - taut breasts of alabaster.


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