Time quickly flows like sand through wide-set fingers.
It does not matter, when the puzzle is solved
and when hands squeeze the long-awaited ticket
to the deep past. A butterfly above
is leading me, blessing the lovely travel,
and the blue heaven’s making fluffy hearts
from whitish clouds. The untiring swallows
are greeting life with the sharp cheerful cries.
Only one week left and the train shall take me
to an old city: the soul’s native place.
All look unreal, as in magic fairies.
It’s time to find the place where dreams have end.
by Thea Ariss
22.05.2024
One week
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124052205489
Свидетельство о публикации №124052205489
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