Thousands dreams are flying away,
Thousands feelings are passing by,
Unknown and forgotten,
Missing and turning.
And the oldest winds are blowing
So tired...
Around, around, around...
Winds are touching the grass,
Whisper thousands names,
Words and thousands sounds,
That are coming around
From the start of existence
Till insane nowadays,
That are coming around the Earth.
Every day, every night
Every moment and time
Dreams are flying among us.
They are borning in our hearts,
They are living
And dying with us.
(long ago)
Dreams
© Copyright: Ольга Бело-Морская, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122012800674
Свидетельство о публикации №122012800674
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