Posted by: bogpan | март 8, 2018

how lightly …

how lightly

the wind is whiffing
like a roamer’s soul
(where is he going today)

its acorns buried
the oak is in a hurry
to run down
the steps bygone
in the spring
of the silent traveling

was that really what you want
oh, you uncompromising soul of a roamer
and something more
than just a prison for the winds

Uncompromising

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