автор: verginov

A rain of moody morning
awoken by a soaring crow
is promising a lonely journey
in a mist of cloudy souls.

A flock of thoughts imprisoned
by furrows on a timeworn brow
is drowning in a blurry vision
of an eye, futile and old.

Аnd plea of moaning silence
reminds the mindless winds
for if they stop to whisper
they just will not exist.