The wind doth weave through trembling trees,
A song of old, a whispered breeze.
It spences light on fields of gold
And spins the tales of ages told.
The rivers hum a lullaby
Beneath the vast and endless sky.
The stars awake in silver gleam
To guard the earth in silent dream.
Oh, fleeting time, so swift, so sweet!
Like petals falling at my feet.
In every moment, soft and kind,
I find the peace the heavens signed.
Would that my heart could ever be
As wild and wise, as winds run free.
Reminiscence
© Copyright: Саша Вишняков, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125040103201
Свидетельство о публикации №125040103201
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