Paris. Night boulevard. Fronts of stores.
Raining outside the window, by moist quiver...
Winter. Foggy curtains.
Sunsets of days, the silent lie...
.............................................
The glassy verge was touched by
The look of silence, print of breath...
Maybe already I awaked
Through myriads of stars and years.
Through myriads of stars and years
© Copyright: Максимилиан Агнэлий, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112101910198
Свидетельство о публикации №112101910198
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