I see the snow, eternal snowing,
as with another day, when you
were staying here, talking slowly
about such a blinding hue
like nowadays. it was the reason
that was decisive, and we linked
two our hands. it feels so wizard,
I sense the glow of happy blinks,
but would it be the same condition
as at that time, upon the rug
of stars? my hope is more delicious
than might be devil's own luck.
snow
© Copyright: Владислав Кудба, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117041509954
Свидетельство о публикации №117041509954
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