Night.
There`s no one inside.
I`m quietly opening the door
And entering in the old white
House.
Wall-clock tapping hours.
Clutching the banisters
Thus I`m rising higher and higher.
Oh, I want to find the end
Of these infinite stairs!
Why I have such queer sense
That under my feet is no
Ground?
There`s darkness around,
I catch a glimpse of strange sounds
That are similar to silent screams.
Animal fear,
The incessant tears,
The terrible weariness,
The unbearable dizziness…
Oh, I want to find the end
Of these infinite stairs!
Why I have such queer sense
That under my feet there is no existence?!
The Dream
© Copyright: Тори Тульская, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116031200530
Свидетельство о публикации №116031200530
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