My fingers slipped
With rosary beads:
Apparently, I shouldn't have warmed them with my warmth?
Far, far away,
Where are the snowflakes –
like feathers in a new blanket,
Thinly-thinly touches the strings
Life,
With crystal, exquisite sound
Wheat sprouts sprout,
Hidden until the deadline.
Do you hear?
My white stone rosary
Too loud for these days.
days in which wheat germinates under the snow
© Copyright: профиль удален, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №220010603479
Свидетельство о публикации №220010603479
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