Me - at the window - darkness beyond.
The streets are crawling with sleepers.
Cars rustle the snow, the light's gleaming on,
The night's its secrets still keeping.
Just a slight glance at this terrible dance -
Snowflakes make a funeral shroud.
If only I could get but half-a-chance,
All that's lost will be surely found.
December night
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012405221
Свидетельство о публикации №125012405221
Рецензии
