I am like a moss
On the centennial roofing slate.
Growing thicker and older,
Making no flowers or berries -
A watchful.
Prickly moths, pine cones,
needles, bird droppings
Are diamonds stuck in my hair.
the moon is cradling in the web
and on my eyes the falling stars
are breathing calmly.
I let the storms and rains to slake
my thirst and longing.
I only watch and listen.
Sometimes they send me
the shaft of sparks from a chimney
And I smile softly, thinking to myself
it is too beautiful to bear!
28.05.2019
The Watchful
© Copyright: Алёна Вышемирская, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124052905104
Свидетельство о публикации №124052905104
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