The witch is on the broom.
The stars are dancing’ under.
The Earth awaits its doom
and trembles in a thunder.
With brightness downfall
Bid Star is burned to ashes.
Long shadows wriggle and crawl
with universe of patches.
The birches, poplars. pines
are keeping dumb man’s silence:
they feared many times
the nature’s cruel violence.
The Moon lost in a track
of silver scarf unwind,
and shortly shows its back
to be In stars reprint.
And only someone’s cry
heard as from another planet
would make this noise to fly,
as the ping-pong to play it.
10.01.2021г.
In memory of howard lovecraft
© Copyright: Серж Северодвинский, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121011004567
Свидетельство о публикации №121011004567
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