Blue becomes red.
Long becomes short.
You are mourning,
But no one is dead.
You go to a shop
Open till morning,
Buy a black skirt,
That reaches your ankle;
Not long enough.
Tights rub and hurt,
Make you rankle.
As well as the lining -
Keeps lifting up.
There can be no warning
Of what is the truth;
You are meant to be mourning
But your skirt is see-through.
Commemoration Party
© Copyright: Корнилова Анна, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117012209564
Свидетельство о публикации №117012209564
Рецензии