It’s winter, my darling, longing,
Your voice will call in the night.
How not to spill this belonging
To each other amidst this frostbite.
It’s winter, my darling, winter!
Transported by snowflakes twirl,
I’ll come to you in splinter
Of a second, dressed up in mother-of-pearl
And silver confessional crowns.
I’ll come to this forest of yours,
Where hungry and half-frozen crows
Steal your sleep, where snowclad firs
Light their icicle lanterns.
Let’s sit for a moment in peace
In the middle of this dreary winter,
Let’s talk of the coming spring, please.
Nov.2021 Dennis in MSK
Winter
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123041101752
Свидетельство о публикации №123041101752
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