On frozen pattern of the window glass
The traces of my trembling fingers
Draw endlessly your distant stations
Without me you somewhere pass..
And through my tightly closed eyelids
I'm staring at your ebon eyes
And burn, and drown in them
Missing
© Copyright: Ольга Бестужева, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111112001641
Свидетельство о публикации №111112001641
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