Stooped traveler
Close my eyes.
Plunged into darkness
Two new stars.
The age of his wanderings
The snow melt flows,
But not worth it,
A sense of oppression.
All wanderings are empty,
At least hope in full...
Not to reach the line.
Not to reach the end.
Wanderer
© Copyright: Светлана Станиславовна Агафонова, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010212302
Свидетельство о публикации №120010212302
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