The dawning morning is just like a spinster, cold and bright.
The grass, green by the evening, now is like a bride - so innocent and white
It's mane was bleached with knowledge overnight.
My Lord and angels must have cried. They must have dropped the frost from the unclouded sky.
My feet exist while I can hear steps.
The air is still drowsy. Let it rest.
It's hardly time in twilight. Time is always late
And I'm accompanied but by a bunch of cats.
A sigh wards off the silence. I'll exist, profane,
For one more morning and for one more day.
The sun today is naughty. It will be led astray.
It will get lost in dreams. Oh God please give it strength. Please help it stay.
To the Bus Stop
© Copyright: Белова Мария, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108092502145
Свидетельство о публикации №108092502145
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