A quiet vill. A summer dusk.
The ear can hear every sound:
The talk of leaves, their gentle husk
And stealthy rustlings all around.
The trees are swaying in the wind.
The sky’s a balm for soul’s scars;
Its deep, rich blue a little thinned
With crystal-clear light from stars.
The distant forest, dimmed and dark,
Is listening to the silent deep,
Spilled everywhere – profound, stark,
And lulling everyone to sleep.
The dormant nature’s like a child
Whose dreams are simple, blameless, pure;
Her beauty, innocent and wild,
Can always be a perfect cure.
29 April 2011
In The Twilight
© Copyright: Элис Ларк, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111052104477
Свидетельство о публикации №111052104477
Рецензии
Удивительно как напоминает Джорджа Байрона "Twilight"
Ольга Корельская 28.05.2011 17:27 • Заявить о нарушении
Ольга Корельская 28.05.2011 17:27 • Заявить о нарушении