No oath, my dear! It’s a blade
Striking our Past, lying with Truth!
No violets of words – they’ll fade,
And memory will never smooth
A deep-deep sign that shows a wade
To one who never wants to lose –
Then stop your oath! It’s like a blade!
No tears, my dear! Up to your eyes
They come from low abandoned fields;
A snail can’t get over those miles
That lead to our autumn yields.
To get them we must drop our shields
And have a battle with our smiles.
Who’ll kiss off tears from your eyes?..
No Oath, My Dear!
© Copyright: Людмила Дмитриевна Назарова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012501224
Свидетельство о публикации №125012501224
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