The rose of winds don’t wither,
But we have chosen a rain.
Woke up. Forgot. It’s easy...
But we are devout to pain.
Sometimes the fate is sounding:
«resign oneself to time...»
A touch to sea of minds
We’ll never be define.
So after us it will became an eternal,-
Its return to origin of love.
The hearth at hearts will sink in the ocean,-
Its return to origin of life.
The rose of winds don t wither
© Copyright: Архипова-Баклина Наталия, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106020901235
Свидетельство о публикации №106020901235
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