Into blue-grey mist of the evening sky
Through the moonway curtains ablaze
Like a march of shells in a roaring tide
Like a shower of rocks in a sweeping glide
Shall I smile right into your gaze
Into night-blue haze of the silver dream
Shall I rush in headlong to sink
In the glowing brazier of darkened leaves
Of your hands that nobody else believes
Yet for me they write in the brightest ink
The most tender Song of the wings
Merlin s Song
© Copyright: Коридвэн, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107111401377
Свидетельство о публикации №107111401377
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