After all, I did not bury you then.
So YOU are still alive.
I hear this even rustle of leaves.
Turning into your tender words.
When longing comes like a black cloud
And it will pour wet on your cheeks
And it will torment.
The breeze will sweep a tear from your cheek with your palm
And your finger will run along it – a ray of the sun.
And I do not recognize the reality that is around
I believe in my strong mind.
I took your hand and walk
Into the endless expanses of the universe …
© Copyright: Ладомир Родумилов, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120090708955