Memories are taking my breath,
As I take your image away.
Everyone has to take his own path
Bitter thoughts in me start to sway.
The night, the skies of broken glass,
The neverchanging fate of day.
And chips of stars melt in my arms,
And rigid frost pursues my way.
I think of soul as flake of snow
It whirls and rushes around until
The Cupid will begin the show,
The flake is melting down to nil.
Snowflake
© Copyright: Виталий Шумарин, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010307703
Свидетельство о публикации №120010307703
Рецензии