Under the white night
Light:
Don’t let me out of
Sight.
Don’t let me slip
Away-
There’ll be no more
“Today”.
There’ll be no one
To shoot:
Give me the gun.
I could
Turn it into a star.
Looking down where you are.
Glance back at me
And go.
Counting to three.
I know
You’ll never wish
To loose.
I never get
To choose.
We’re just some silver dust:
Stars burn away... Too fast.
Shooting star
© Copyright: Серафима Пронина, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119061900370
Свидетельство о публикации №119061900370
Рецензии
