Again game over, Jane; A Gain
Your gain was lost among this dust,
Among this ocean of the pain.
O mum! Let us be still, at last!
Let us...
Agree with your Fate-Tree, whose green,
Deep green sharp thorns bring Breath of Death,
The breath from the Oblivion Spring;
It can console soul, as
Сhartress.
Alas, life leaves us, as bright leaves,
As autumn leaves that fall; At all
A Tale, your tale achieves... archives
In spite of light eternal call
Of All.
Arrange your thoughts. This age, that strange
Tries them to swaddle along, across;
It is a Cross, that gives a range
For blooming of your Cyan Rose
Of course.
Emerald-Green
© Copyright: Эйльем Лард, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107110901678
Свидетельство о публикации №107110901678
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