Water
Has its own language
And its own passion,
Cold-driven,
Cold-drawn.
It is one touch of icy air
That builds me up above you,
Too high, higher than eagles and towers.
My height
And a delightful smile
Come together,
Like I come together with you,
Freyr.
Love is an endless string
Of light blue
Singing streams,
And beauty never melts,
But stays a solemn sculpture.
Gerda
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121081005840
Свидетельство о публикации №121081005840
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