My golden age
is memories
that sinful in their innocent.
The primal rage
stands on the knees
with fears that guides us to the end.
There are desires like disease,
That's all my sins. Forgive me, please.
I never known
might move below
till moment when I quite to fall?
I never shown
where was my flow
of gorgeous treasures that I stole.
There every crumb would cost me life
and all my days have passed in strife.
My only love
was my last chance.
Was the offenses been redeemed?
I'd flew above
behind my glance.
I was forgiven as I seemed.
Only her tears could cost me love.
All this for me would be enough.
Lonely park bench.
Bright setting sun
leave on the water shining line.
Restricted range
that I have done
throughout my life leaves dimming shine.
Now all my wealth is memories
and not my beautiful lilies.
The memories of the old man
© Copyright: Сотников Виталий, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118033108185
Свидетельство о публикации №118033108185
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