The clear Wednesday warms by rays the cloister.
The square's empty and tired soul is calm.
Light wind touches hair by short wafts: a sorrow
goes far away as there was not this one.
The light walls radiate soft shine and air
is filling with this light, giving odd sights.
The square looks so magic as in fairies.
There is no one to crush this soothing charm.
The blooming rose is losing ice-white petals,
reminding one more time, that cold is close.
White petals fall, reviving the old square.
The wind tears off the rose smell, carrying off.
by Thea Ariss
11:22/03.09.2026
The clear Wednesday warms by rays the cloister
© Copyright: Тея Арис, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126090307485
Свидетельство о публикации №126090307485
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