To an exile
Right off the bat.
I'll be in porch
Waving my hat.
Up to the speed,
Steamy of pace.
I'll be on street
Lighting your trace.
Far from all touch,
Famished to grave.
I'll be at lunch,
Praying the brave.
Come down with home,
Sopping from rain.
I'll be in roam,
Sharing our pain.
Свидетельство о публикации №114121800359
Татьяна Рыжова 6 28.02.2015 20:21 Заявить о нарушении