The crimson wall of cherry taste of love,
The bitter smell of sunwards going wind…
I walk on clouds that float on high above
And bathe in rivers of free-flowing mind.
From the grey ugliness of crying world
I flee to you, my wonderful desire.
I crave for your occasionally whispered word,
And tender hands, and lips that can inspire
My heart to burn with a passion fire
That noone else could bring to me before.
And you, my angel, will live in my heart
Till Mother Death tears all the world apart.
My
© Copyright: Нексус 6, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №209061700161
Свидетельство о публикации №209061700161
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