Rattling beads
Marching feet
The river far off
Rattling beads
Reflect not their sounds
From the pretty bare feet
Receding from the well
Slowly like the setting sun
We parted company
Slowly those warmth turn ice
A colourful woven tapestry
A lonely thread will turn
Thirsty to be woven back
If even slowly.
14. 07. 2012
14. 07. 2012
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