From December in slow hours
A music box runs an evening melody,Amid the gentle remainder of trees,
whose sillhoutte falls over the blanket of a sky,
Glimpses between leaves in deepest light, spies
Today relives for tomorow ,
These hoursnever sleep,
So leave the winds to sweep the windows shut,
And the seconds fall abrupt,
The beginning finds the end
And If chapters are to rewrite anew
Let these stars glide underneath the pen...
Copyright. Izhizm ...
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