It's raining. Wind is lulling spring.
A sharp and rich forgotten smell
of fallen sodden rotten leaves
is the remembrance of cold days.
A frayed blackened heavy rug
is laying on dark lifeless earth.
All is too monochrome and stuck.
Deep sadness has embraced the world.
The endless cry of the gray sky
is sowing shimmer silver seeds.
The lifeless nature keeps a hush.
It's raining. Wind is lulling spring.
by Thea Ariss
02.04.2025
It s raining. Wind is lulling spring
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125040208238
Свидетельство о публикации №125040208238
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