Frustrated and anguished for a while,
Listening to tired wind.
Does he guess 'bout my exile?
Otherwise, why would he now not sing?
The tea's gone cold, I didn't drink
And didn't touch the toasted cake.
Considering what wind might think
'bout why the world seems to forsake.
It knocks my window - rhythmic rain,
Oh no, don't come in, leave me here.
I know, my thoughts convince me in vain,
With knocks on the door they'll all disappear.
(октябрь 2008)
Unfocused, vacant
© Copyright: Синнэ Ритари, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108102100361
Свидетельство о публикации №108102100361
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