Cold fingers of wind are touching my face.
Toucing my face and burning my lips.
Burning my lips with a wonderful taste.
A wonderful taste of the air so crisp.
Drops of rain are blinding my eyes.
Blinding my eyes, mingling with tears.
Mingling with tears like stars they are bright.
Like stars they are bright and silvery clear.
Cold fingers of wind are touching my face
© Copyright: Владимир Левченко 2, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111010207543
Свидетельство о публикации №111010207543
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