In the icy air of October -
A pure azure of rhyme!
My thoughts so sublime.
But they are like falling stars in danger,
And wonder, Why?
Nothing is black and white,
No one is guilty,
No one is wright,
Nothing to do,
And No where to go,
But, with a seep of Russian vodka and bite of Seledka,
When the Objects are not clear,
I choose to play Russian roulette.
it is not vendette within myself
it is not jumping over the cliff
It is just icy Oktoberfest..,
Under falling snowflakes
And I am just a fake image in the mirror,
And only wrinkles of age are getting clearer.
solitude
© Copyright: Регина Арден, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121102300811
Свидетельство о публикации №121102300811
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