I am longing for close encounters,
Breathing lyrics among mystic cues,
And long talks in the thickening twilight
With indelible, unwoven clues.
I am yearning for mythical chanting
From the far-away atmosphere depths
Of the ocean ice-cold in the Arctic
That will melt bitter frowns like wax.
I am sighing for lonely heath bogs
With the mosses enameled and glazed…
At the rocky edge, near sea billows,
Where the amethyst shore still awaits...
Let the sky be pulled into my knapsack...
And pearl beads as a gift for sea folks...
And the needle was found in the haystack
To stitch up our intertwined roads.
I am longing for close encounters...
© Copyright: Виктория Эдуардовна Козловская, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124072005826
Свидетельство о публикации №124072005826
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