She was picking the flowers all day,
Wondering over the forest,
She was tenderly kept by a murmuring rain,
Which she took for invisible flaps.
Flapping sunny and glistering pools,
She imagined herself being a fowl,
Being a little and brisk seagull Pinky Feathers
And so suddenly swiftly she flew,
Leaving backwards her sorrowful land
And its meaningful reveries!
A dream
© Copyright: Екатерина Мурзич 2, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125082904963
Свидетельство о публикации №125082904963
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