I do not expect you.
Sunken hours.
And the streets are rocking like slow guards.
I do not expect you.
The thought is sufficient. And long one …
For a Sunday.
A dream
are dreaming
the birch’s
twigs.
Sunken hours.
And the streets are rocking like slow guards.
I do not expect you.
The thought is sufficient. And long one …
For a Sunday.
A dream
are dreaming
the birch’s
twigs.
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