Childhood as a Sunday
with body of flowers and Mother voice
there she is armful of rain
after my neck as they bear roses
their soul of perfume
as she send tales a plains
end fire keeps the light.
Childhood shelter of Eden engrafted on the heart
I could not even ask where you are
when the eyes do not see anything
without you - cloud caught playing at the end of string,
holiday of nutty and cinnamon.
I will always ask someone
where they are not dark evenings
where winter does not freeze
I will say again and again
You're only
with all your faces
of angels with freckles
and gap between too teeth.