The face, the name, the voice – they now gone,
They disappeared all and went elsewhere,
A century had passed since our dawn,
I’ve learnt that loneliness is hard to bear...
What shall I treasure now or remember?
My dreams were stolen by the Milky Way.
The road, which intertwined us one December...
Or was it spring? Forget it, anyway…
Shall I insist that miracles have features?
That poppies still can blossom all at once?
And that by melody of Love born by two creatures
A single rose can pronounce a romance?
There is not anything to say to you. Somehow
I have forgotten Cinderella’s Ball,
And if my books of Fairy Tales were fallen now,
I wish Exupery's ones were first to fall!
January 2002
Little Prince
© Copyright: Ирина Фетисова-Мюллерсон, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109021900130
Свидетельство о публикации №109021900130
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