Walking through those yellow fields,
Kissing you when you are mine and all’s
Coming true what you have seen in reels -
Bicycling through summers to the Falls.
Pair of hands like pair of suns or moons -
Losing space that’s hung between the lips,
I don’t care if this goes ended soon -
God’s my waiter and I’m paying the tips.
Walking through
© Copyright: Томас Кромвель, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123072605139
Свидетельство о публикации №123072605139
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