And every second day
and every next September
I’m always on the way
The place where winds are tender.
Where sun is not so bright,
and leaves are not as green.
My real home is light
of easiness of being.
I always do my best
to fly or quicken pace.
I’ve mixed up East and West
in search of endless grace.
And every second day
and every next September
inside me leads the way
the place where winds are tender.
looking for
© Copyright: Анастасия Еткевичус, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107010201324
Свидетельство о публикации №107010201324
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