Walking over the heavens,
Hearing the bells from the steeple,
A thought at the hour eleventh
Whispers to me: ‘it is created by people’.
Passing through bridges,
Smiling to kinky but genial beadle,
Happiness rises in size of few inches
And whispers to me: ‘it is created by people’.
There is a rainbow of houses,
Where a grasshopper loudly twiddle,
Who is wearing here all trousers?
Who whispers to me: ‘it is created by people’?
Created by people
© Copyright: Максим Дороговцев, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113051400816
Свидетельство о публикации №113051400816
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