She is kissed by the Sun,
Marked by the sky, since birth.
In her fathomless eyes, sleepy,
You will find peace.
The rays sparkle in the lashes,
Playing the strings fervently.
She is a Golden-haired bird,
It will not be forgotten without a doubt.
All redheads are witches is a bit,
They used to be burned at the stake.
And now, gone from the past,
Witchcraft is alive in amber.
No, no, we are not witches at all,
It's not the color that rewards the hostess.
Character a bit devilish,
You make her angry, all right, avoid it.
She is kissed by the Sun,
Marked by the sky, since birth.
In her fathomless eyes, sleepy,
You will find peace.
Рыжа я
© Copyright: Андрей Дмитриевич Кондратьев, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206187
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206187
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