Diana Yazovskaya (1st November,1997 to... / Magotcha)
The river ran around the bend,
Flew down the mountain,
Sparkled in the sun a while
Then...gushed up in a fountain.
It came right down with speed and strength,
The sunset splashed against it,
The crimson crept back out again,
It looked like nature meant it.
A flame that chased the water,
A wave of molten gold,
It glowed with warmth and welcome
Then it went bleak and cold.
The moon exploded over it,
The glitter was the stars,
The darkness all but stifled it...
So it left to other fars.
Comments about this poem (The River by Diana Yazovskaya )
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