Dec 22, 2012, 8:17 PM  

Това е... 

  Poetry » Love
2352 1 61

                         

 

 

                                                   

                                                    и съм

                                                    перце от глухарче

                                                    от топъл вятър понесено

                                                    в тихото, слънчево…

                                                    и рисува следата му фина

                                                    в пространството

                                                    онзи крехък свят сред сивото

                                                    от бели думи и стих 

                                                    където си ти

                                                    в изящен щрих за любов…

                                                    за топли ръце

                                                    на бриза с кадифените пръсти

                                                    докосващи...

                                                    за меките устни

                                                    гальовно и бавно сълзящи

                                                    по пътя

                                                    на сънна река

                                                    към дълбините на щастие

                                                    където

                                                    забравен на дъното спи

                                                    дъждът от сълзи

                                                    и копнежно сънува мига

                                                    когато

                                                    пак ще вали

                                                    и с капчици нежност

                                                    мен и теб

                                                    ще целува...

                                                    а времето спира да диша

                                                    в дъха си топъл

                                                    стаило магията…

                                                    и съм

                                                    перце от глухарче

                                                    от сълзите понесено

                                                    и рисува пак следата му

                                                    тъжно-дъждовна

                                                    сън за любов и безветрие

                                                    на тебе наречени…

 

                                    

                                               музика - C'est la - Georges Moustaki

 

                 http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=fk9bCBXcV9E

 

 

© Магдалена Костадинова All rights reserved.

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