The day fades into the cold silence,
And stars hide behind their fragile glass,
Sinking in a serene wave of alliance,
Bitter regrets of solitude pass.
There is no purpose, but a straying path,
Wandering through rust and steel beneath the light,
Where absence is a quiet glance,
From behind the veil woven by time and the night.
Waiting for an eternal return, for resistance
Of some distant, indifferent constellation,
Reminding me that loss is also existence,
And even the cold has its own kind of warmth.
A new enchantment gathers its momentum,
Merging in unison or playing giocoso senza metrum.
Sonnet
© Copyright: Наталия Стефанович, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125110502997
Свидетельство о публикации №125110502997
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