Soothe, lightly hush,
Let stream of thought
Be softly crushed,
Turned into snow.
Open your eyes,
Ease off the mow.
Great lucid wise,
Whose power low,
Bad luck with rise,
The tumbled soul
Of bridge in vice.
White lunar fault -
All tarnished ink,
Now lit beneath.
Retrieve one thing -
Some bliss at least:
Red feather wings
Comes underneath.
Clear off the sins,
Fall on your knees.
Restart a breathe,
Grow higher free.
Run heart in wreathe
Dawn sacred tree.
26.07.15
Birds of a feather
© Copyright: Инна Королькова, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116060303147
Свидетельство о публикации №116060303147
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