These icy flies drop out of gloomy skies
Illuminating our boring lives.
Like gleams of hope they cover our shoulders
As light as feathers but as harsh as boulders.
Whenever we look up on snowy days,
They knit their secrets made of mazy lace
But fall and catch our souls in wonder nets
Becoming wet and melting people’s frets.
If you could only know, oh snow-white spies,
What minds and hearts we bear and what there lies!
Then you would turn into a pouring rain
And wash away all human sins and pain.
Apostrophe to the Snow
© Copyright: Юлия Венсен, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120041610764
Свидетельство о публикации №120041610764
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