My dear, why does love go?
Why does pleasure disappear?
All hopes that I truly showed
Are leaving now, and my mind is clear.
These dark and uncertain words
Will not hit your gentle ear.
They say “Love has many sorts…”
I loved with the best, my dear.
20.02.16
The Regret
© Copyright: Олег Аршинов, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116030711731
Свидетельство о публикации №116030711731
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