So, you are gone- and I can swear
By no means it's me to blame.
I seem to hear in the air
Your lovely accent-all in vain.
I'm like a pilgrim when he stares
Without whispering a word
At endless blue, where skylark dares
To greet the sun - unseen but heard.
And as his glance in restless worry
Keeps seeking stubbornly the track,
So do the lines of verses hurry,
Imploring you: Come back! Come back!
Come back
© Copyright: Леди Гор, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108110901533
Свидетельство о публикации №108110901533
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