Nights have a strange influence,
mirroring former thoughts,
joining in lines continuous
some disconnected dots.
In my desires submerging,
which dominated before,
time and space are merging,
reaching my inner core.
Gliding through feelings previous,
images muted unfold
things, to which I was oblivious,
things that possess me and hold,
things that are making me prisoner,
things that are clipping my wings,
things that without a reasoning
memory now brings.
Delicate, gentle, and noiseless,
almost as whisper of leaves,
memory swells and discloses
dreams of the past. It retrieves
from its remote coffers
gems of the times elapsed
and inadvertently offers
healing of pain, perhaps.
23.03.2019
Night memories
© Copyright: Альбина Кумирова, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119032304613
Свидетельство о публикации №119032304613
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