My memories are told
Besides my any lasting.
Our seasons are so gold -
Our wind is not so gusty...
Like my some turnings made,
Like any days of story
I feel the pain in shade,
I tell you that I’m sorry.
And you are still so own -
The pictures with forgiving,
You haven't yet been shown
Still not a beauteous living...
And we are not alone -
Our home is not so broken,
Our clouds are still not foam
But that is not a token...
My memories are true
With all my whole story,
The pictures all are You,
So clear and not blurry…
02.09.2016 (11:56 pm, at work)
The Pictures All Are You
© Copyright: Максим Митрофанов 2, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116091510790
Свидетельство о публикации №116091510790
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