When you run through winter shrouds,
Among the firtrees, dark and calm,
Feeling shine in wounds of clouds,
You think how to catch a storm.
You believe in tales on ancient -
Of dark force in heart of night;
As wild animal, with passion,
You begin the cruel fight.
You believe just own decisions -
No one else can make it right.
In dead forest, filled with visions,
Or in angry social fight -
«Let it be no count of victims!».
Taking aims, you're single winner
Under stars - or light of cities,
As your heart is charmed by winter.
13/02/2014
Winter
© Copyright: Джиллиана Сокол, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124022405632
Свидетельство о публикации №124022405632
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