In quiet woods, where gentle breezes play,
And time drifts softly like the flowing stream,
I ponder on the fleeting light of day,
And cherish whispers of a tender dream.
Though seasons change and shadows stretch their hands,
Yet in the heart, a steadfast ember glows;
For love, like ancient oaks on fertile lands,
Endures the storm, and in its stillness grows.
One day, beneath the arch of twilight skies,
A wanderer shall seek what once was mine;
And in that moment, when the spirit flies,
The bonds of earth shall fade, and stars align.
Then I shall rise, as nature’s breath returns,
In every leaf, in every songbird’s call;
For in the soul where deep affection burns,
There lies a light that conquers even fall.
“Rejoice!” it cries, “for love shall never cease;
In memory’s embrace, we find our peace.”
In quiet woods, where gentle breezes play
© Copyright: Георгий Польский, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №225042200194
Свидетельство о публикации №225042200194
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