Karina Lakeyeva


From day to day I go on shivered glass –
Along the ancient ways, my spirit mourns
For dying little birds and trees of brass
And wild tin flowers’ stalks with copper thorns.
Along the rand of voids your lovesick sprite
With broken helpless wings & sad eyes strays –
Through fogs and winds and storms – to you, my knight.
I long for feeling you, your oceans’ sprays,
Your oceans’ waves & deep… But rains just ooze

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