Morning came with a whiff of cinnamon and a...motley carpet...of autumn...leaves ...My eyes sank into this colorful...nuance...and...played...
Little petals fell tired...of fighting the wind...in...my hands
The sun covered you...and..nimble...revived the veins in them... Autumn...golden...and...fiery as...the lava of...Pompeii...
The waves of the lake whisper to me...it flows into me and my veins are like a mermaid's...
My hair...is...scattered...is...shrinking...a...wreath...of...autumn leaves and chrysanthemums... I don't want roses...the wreath will be bloody... In my hands relax...autumn...leaves...and..their secrets whisper to me... How much I want to flow...in their veins...again that juice...from the bosom of...Earth...
To be...like...garlands...on the trees...
May they be cheerful like children...laughter...and..innocent..like them...
Living pure as a child...
Which...he only learns...and no one is his enemy...
Myths about good heroes...if they were real...
Mars is not only... a utopia... but a red opulence ...
Dreams of light...and...purple...morning... Colorful eyes...and yours...
Money is found...mind no ...Smile...and...you are...that...

© Saraswaty-Lilith