Growing up, glowing dark
air.
Woven wool, woven silk
hair.
Sometimes fall into ill
feelings:
Sourest dream - frozen birds
killing
tired flesh, dried tears
of the lies.
Wake me up, take my cold
weather
In my hair is alone and
together...
But my flame in the deep
darkness.
All the hair is a grass
starkness.
All the grass on our heads
it's a warm,
Woven flesh of the time
of the calm.
Woven Hair
© Copyright: Дарья Тальба, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116122810295
Свидетельство о публикации №116122810295
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