The snow's a blanket—
Threadbare,
Thin.
It whispers secrets to the wind.
A lamp flickers;
Shadow bends.
Cold hands clutch a letter
Never sent.
Lost letters—
Torn and worn.
Ink bleeds where
the tears were born.
What was written?
What was sworn?
Lost letters—
Never mourned.
Rust stains the mailbox,
Door ajar—
A creak of floorboards,
Distant car.
Dripping tap marks
the passing time—
Each sound a verse,
Every drop a rhyme.
And the radio hums—
Static dreams—
A voice from a world
torn at the seams.
Lost letters—
Torn and worn.
Ink bleeds where
the tears were born.
What was written?
What was sworn?
Lost letters—
Never mourned.
Cello groans
Like winter's breath—
Muted brass,
A hymn of death.
Hope glimmers in
a fleeting key,
Then fades into
the minor sea.
https://rutube.ru/video/cd4d25e409a0f9e1674c29af14f166a7/
Lost Letters
© Copyright: Альберт Светлов, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №226090601730
Свидетельство о публикации №226090601730
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