In autumn's grasp, where shadows fall,
Beneath the weight of leaden skies,
The drizzling rain, a mournful call,
Whispers of fate in weary sighs.
But let us flee to tranquil lands,
Where blossoms bloom on boughs of spring,
And gentle breezes brush the strands,
As larks take flight on joyful wing.
The nightingale’s sweet serenade,
With fervent prayers to heaven's floor,
In sacred hush, the world displayed,
Awaits the dawn, forevermore.
For in such solace, life renews,
With every petal, every song,
We leave behind the autumn blues,
And find where we, at last, belong.
The Autumn Blues
© Copyright: Лариса Сенегал, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124120304103
Свидетельство о публикации №124120304103
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