. . .
Warm wood of a pipe remembers
How frail strings of smoke danced and faded
Between gentle touch of my fingers.
Its depth keeps well known and cosy
Aroma of prunes in the autumn,
That takes me back home - near a fireplace.
While Destiny writes on the water
With ashes and breath and dim cinder,
Tobacco lays soft honeyed kisses
And leaves bitter tasted farewell.
It lasts till pipe's heart is awakened
By flame of a match once again.
June 10
2015
my colours (English ver.) by Keila-the-fawncat, literature
Literature
my colours (English ver.)
. . .
White's for angels in their flying,
Sugar dust and chalk of seashells,
Fluffy polar teddy bear,
Little sister's summer dress,
Breakfast milk for purring kitten.
Grey's for pebbles on the road
To no-destination journey,
Silver strings of elfin harness
For the night-black unicorns,
Wolf's thick fur and owl's feathers,
Wool plaid warmth, snow in the dawn.
Blue is for eternal skies,
Mirrors and siamese's eyes,
Long silk scarves and ring and ink
To leave signs on water surface.
Green's for fern and lucky clover,
Dreaming oaks in ancient forests,
Absinth and awaking April,
Meditation of the Nature.
When these shades are melting down
In a