I wish the minutes which were not
Towards eternity intended
Could be returned, refused, amended
From endless lives we thought we'd got.
I wish from here I could flee
Towards the homes of dear friends
Who mix, in thirty square meters,
Like alchemists, the pure blends
Of greater worlds with bitter tea.
O, save my mind, the pure velvet
Beneath my feet - the winter's art,
And cleanse the fortress of my heart
From captives, bound to overwhelm it
And take it quietly apart.
I wish, like you, to melt and rise
To be reborn, naive, and gentle,
To twirl in waltzes sentimental
Descending slowly from the skies,
And pass before the dear eyes,
In worlds eternal and momental
December 2016
Winter waltz
© Copyright: Амина Садр, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117112500972
Свидетельство о публикации №117112500972
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