Morning haze enveloping the bunches
Of the buildings scattered here and there
Made more prominent the silhouetting branches
Of the oaks that are planted rare.
I deceased my dream and stared out
To observe the mist and wish to go
What were all my morning thoughts about,
Making me so doubtful and slow?
***
© Copyright: Виктор Сторопов, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121031401334
Свидетельство о публикации №121031401334
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