Comments about Tedara Mavrodiev
My hands slid through the woolen clothes,
Their touch soft upon my fingers
And I put them in the baggage.
Therein they rested tender.
When I opened my stifled room a new air hit upon my face, I checked to see whether all was in its place,
When I left, the front door screeched and
The cat brushed all over my feet,
My dog howled right at the sky,
I was leaving for a bit.
Soon home will be left,
The world will lie ahead.