On a walk
and these words somehow hummed themselves up.
(My son thinks my lyrics are utter rubbish, but I‘m nevertheless publishing it ;)
A blue dome, trimmed white, above me,
Mild breeze on my face, oh, how lovely,
Green grass glistens under my feet,
The whole world so brightly lit,
A creek murmurs his song gently,
My heart is tuning in so intently,
Pink blossoms bloom on cherry trees,
Birds are chirping beneath,
A grey road is slowly unfolding,
Stills my every craving and yearning,
With butterflies‘ fluttering wings
My heart rises up and sings...
Свидетельство о публикации №120031907231
I am not a bird, I am not a tree
I am not a bloom long the road you see
I am just the fellow who heard singing voice
In the time of spring, in the time of choice
When the wings search wind - so to fall in love
When the streams search river as the fingers glove
Stop! The last metaphor...? on the spring day walk...?
This is Spring of a strange - “social distance talk”
But the trees are in bloom, and the birds on the wing
And you song is cooing and I virtually sing.
Саша Казаков 22.03.2020 21:04 Заявить о нарушении
Н.Н. 23.03.2020 01:28 Заявить о нарушении
Саша
Саша Казаков 23.03.2020 01:34 Заявить о нарушении
Н.Н. 23.03.2020 01:55 Заявить о нарушении
Саша Казаков 23.03.2020 01:58 Заявить о нарушении