Galina Nagornaya

Signs Of Sand

I look at lines and rymes but all the day
The river flows too slowly. And I feel
The shortage of the waves and jerk of fate
That would push on the stagnant raft from still.
In drowsy conscious hot enticing grass
Is swaying just like clouds in the bliss.
And I enjoy with idle calm at last
That took up nice and wild centuries.

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