at least swift years are passing <br />nightingales identically are singing <br />in the process with voice <br />in the green clump, and love then again, <br />is decking itself with the May <br /> <br />so that in the gift, you can give, <br />enchanted in strophes of poems, words, <br />you try into lake bulrushes to hide <br />and listen to the wind, what still anew, <br />with swinging, is caressing meadows. <br /> <br />because you, you want to declare <br />what you feel to me. I know, that it is <br />usually difficult. more freely <br />it is writing, than it is saying. <br />you are bewitching on the marvellous lines, <br />into flowers. you are picking them for me, <br /> <br />or you are buying.and not you are first, <br />and not you are last, which is sending <br />colour envelopes, what oneself, from your <br />confidences and declarations.it is browning, <br />shimmering with the fire being on fire <br />it are finding their way to me so that <br /> <br />I feel your eyesight which includes <br />my waist. even though gently, still <br />I feel, as if sea wave affected me, <br />what is moving closer to the edge, <br />and isn't moving away <br />write...to me.<br /><br />Dagmara Anna AuraDagimar<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/and-write-to-me-your-letters/
