Upstairs you see another world,
Where wind is blowing, we're made of gold,
But real issues seem to me
Like awful prize of destiny.
This hidden world calls "come over, dear,
I can wash out you darkest fear,
I'm neither lover nor your god,
But I'm friend, that means a lot".
I wish I had more time to feel
A precious friendship and needless ill.
However, I'm made of flesh,
Which doesn't make specific clash.
And I can bleed like everyone
And squint my eyes when I see the sun.
So, when I hear someone calling me,
I come to sound to touch and see,
To make this place my native home,
To reach and take this flowing warm.
flesh and gold
© Copyright: Мэри Элизабет, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115052406967
Свидетельство о публикации №115052406967
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