Trapped by the peaks and valleys:
restriction, structure, limit, sinfulness…
The gates of dreams
shrouded by the breath of the moment,
free and invisible. One step to exit…
I left them behind,
children of the draft and flames,
prowling shadows, guards…
one more step and a touch…
bare feet, cold grass, the bride…
the sun outlines the silhouette.
Swarming bees carry the nectar of the memory
drop by drop to the amber castle.
A distant call short circuit.
At first, sweet and soft, but then
loud and destructive…
fine structure shatters, falls down,
touching the ground with loud
ding-ding-ding….melts, flow…
where there is a river, there are river banks…
© 2011 by Nina K Orlovskaya
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