Her voice is soft,
Her hair is made of clouds,
Her touch is light,
In her eyes you could drown,
She wears a crown of solitude and depth,
You still immerse, although there's nothing left
For you to wish.
Her passion is a wreath
Of summer heat and fresh autumnal breath.
Aspasia
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122122603085
Свидетельство о публикации №122122603085
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