A lightwinged angel swore to give insight
And gently slipped away and left me blind.
All waited gods were indigent and poor,
My life-line’s short with roads to be obscure.
And neither shall we go this pity ways,
Nor we shall build a temple of embrace.
There’s one for us – to listen to the mass
With memory rustling on body like a dress…
A Lightwinged Angel...
© Copyright: Людмила Дмитриевна Назарова, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124122302341
Свидетельство о публикации №124122302341
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