to keep on pouring the faded flowers -
to search you ghost betweent the trees
i'd rather fly above the towers
you've built while crawling on your knees
or rouse your head and your eyelashes
the blueblue skies are falling ill
the sharp regret of threat; it noshes
your soul impatient, falling in.
fl oat
© Copyright: Случудечайность, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114020413183
Свидетельство о публикации №114020413183
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