Roaring morning comes with rain
Like jazz of splendid nature.
The urban beat will start the stoves,
And engines, and the waking.
I won’t sing along the streets,
And never - in the crowd.
I must, I will be frisky rhythms
Of downpouring showers.
And, sealed inside my very soul,
The lyrics waits for morning.
Then drops the pitches in the halls
To shape the walls and corners.
I’ll take the turn and meet the day
To blow away the tears.
All on the brink of life and death
My music drives the season.
30.01.26
Roaring morning
© Copyright: Евгения Блейк, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126031803478
Свидетельство о публикации №126031803478
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