No regret, no remorse.
Like a frightened horse
Thoughts are shying, get strayed about.
There’s nothing to say,
You are slipping away,
There’s no point to turn around.
Touchy warmth of your hands,
Fall of blossoms ends,
Stroking tenderly dear hair…
... - name of my way…
Night surrenders to day,
Crouching quietly to it’s lair.
Madness
© Copyright: Ольга Сапронова, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109120404225
Свидетельство о публикации №109120404225
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