You breathe — the wind carries it to me,
You step — and I feel the earth trembling free,
Your hand moves — I raise mine in time with thee,
We’re bound — by a red thread that ties you and me.
You were, you are, and you will always be,
Born to love me endlessly, endlessly.
I cry — rain falls outside your window’s pane,
I smile — sunlight wakes you from dreams again,
I hear — music flows, you watch the waves in vain,
We’re bound — by a red thread that ties you and me.
I was, I am, and will always be,
Born to love you endlessly, endlessly.
I dance the tango — hold me close, don’t delay,
I walk from work — come meet me without sway,
At night when sad — pour my tea in your own way,
We’re bound — by a red thread that ties you and me.
Where have we been? Who are we now, you see?
Where will we go? Are we born to love, to be?
A red thread for our fingers
© Copyright: Ирина Мутовчийская, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №225081400578
Свидетельство о публикации №225081400578
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