Being Tired Poem by Uktamoy Khaldorova
Being Tired
In my spirit the mad night
Is dancing, swaying a few,
On each road I'm running
Being tired looking for you
My heart is flowing along
Into the mad stream of love.
My eyes would go so deep,
Into the mud of missing so.
Into my palms are falling
The woes of the grief voices
Like the false words of yours
Left from a sack of gypsies.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
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5/6/2024 5:24:54 PM # 1.0.0.1119
