A moment of the purest morning,
A moment of pure joy and mourning,
Of loss dissolving in the air,
Of the blackest shades of despair,
But as you walk in a park,
There's a stream of feelings
Turning you areound,
A soft melody
In which you drown.
Kyiv at first light
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123020209380
Свидетельство о публикации №123020209380
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