Each evening
Ай фриз энд стэар
At beautiful bloody sky
It really doesn't care
If anyone lives or die,
A butterfly wing,
Time's flipping
Your pattern, your depth, your ink
My mind is a record keeping
For lost in an instant blink
These paintings are large
In number,
If all of them were to keep
My cozy and little chamber
Should have been a giant's ship
That sails in pursuit of something
That fits all that giant's past
Among those giants some think
That's past that you love will last.
Giants
© Copyright: Станислав Повеликин, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120061709958
Свидетельство о публикации №120061709958
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