Another day,
Another time
Amidst array
Of things of mine
I find a charm
Forgotten long.
Where has it been?
To whom's belonged?
So warm to hand –
And here it seals
A paper envelope
Of dreams.
Which is the first
To fly away?
A random pick –
And come what may!
As I wake up
Another time
Amidst array
Of days of mine
I find it by,
As if I'm sent
The magic beads
That never end.
05.11.2019
To Sheena
© Copyright: Екатерина Макуца, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119110600693
Свидетельство о публикации №119110600693
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