A well-tempered clavier
Sits inside of my hands ...
It without the gear
Flied around the lands ...
I am shaking my coat off the magical snow
and soon give
to the keys the inconspicuous bow!
It's reflecting my days,
Cold hands are getting warm,
Soul’s rebellious rays’re feeling
back being home :)))!
Свидетельство о публикации №122120600555