And when again you ask me for my name,
I'll tell you don't you hear it's precious sound
That plays among the foliage with the wind
But never with these leaves touches the ground;
And what's the name if not a mist at dawn,
If not the clear sky above your head,
It gives you an eternal pleasure when
You whisper it at night, in your cold bed.
The letters which contain my heart and soul,
When echo in my ears uttered by you
Then only it's my precious human name..
Apr 8, 2006
Name
© Copyright: Марина Бурцева, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107062100239
Свидетельство о публикации №107062100239
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