Do you remember you told me
That I have a rotten root.
I didn't make a rejoinder,
Similar is matchless too,
The sinful with the saint one
Drag always in one procession.
For kindness it's a shame that
Not angels come in recession.
By the way, what are poems?
Synonym to the bliss.
You love as Pugacheva:
First say goodbye - then meet.
About the scales
© Copyright: Елизавета Судьина, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120030100204
Свидетельство о публикации №120030100204
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