15 12 09
Wold
It s the lastest possible time before an event
When the food that we know be all gone
We are still and stone gravely silent
The hope ll be carried on the wings of a nun
No more noises from green leaved shadow
No more birds singing heavenly their songs
Our world has sunk in sticky mud dough
The green offshoots re burnt in its womb
We re too late to break the hot mould
The general feeling of doom and gloom
Now it fills open land or moor of the wold
Wold
© Copyright: Ник Гаранин, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109122402700
Свидетельство о публикации №109122402700
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