Poem of the Day If the Moon on the Skies... by Anna Akhmatova If the moon on the skies does not roam, But cools, like a seal above, My dead husband enters the home To read the letters of love. He remembers the box, made of oak, With the lock, very secret and odd, And spreads through a floor the stroke Of his feet in the iron bond. He watches the times of the meetings And the signatures blurry set. Hasnt had he sufficiently grievings And pains in this word until that?
Posted on: Sat, 05 Apr 2014 14:54:54 +0000
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