Snowflakes are lingering in the air
Like bubbles in a glass of champagne
Trees’ dark silhouette disappear as vapour
In the night’s velvet-delicate embrace.
The full moon’s yellowish lamp-orb shines
In my eyes’ conspiratorial blink of light
My rapid strides don’t sink into,
Just touch the castor sugar-airy snow.
The graceful bath-arc of my shoulder
Sometimes vaguely appears in the night.
I taste the clearness of ice,
Quiver slightly for petit rustles
The church clock is round like full moon.
Its bell sounds in the silence of cold.
In the same minute two screams are cried.
From a hand the old snow-orb falls out.
No comments:
Post a Comment