I know, it was a simple show,
And I am not a prey.
I do all that I am to know
Performing every day.
So, ‘t’ s going on throwing a stone
Preventing foolish stay.
Through all the peaks is heard my moan.
Although, am running ‘way.
That coldish Sun to clouds raised makes shine
To all the Men.
And my grass-covered lovely shrine
Makes sure that I can.
Between the wings
I have my heart so brave to find my way.
My cloud is that number nine.
Thus, finished is my game.
The shrine
© Copyright: Валерия Евсеева, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122081002253
Свидетельство о публикации №122081002253
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