@Gianna96 21 December 2021 more from that month

Today, in the soft solitude of this cloudless morning, there are as many sunburns in the shaded branches of unknown trees. All the while,No bird is curious about your tune Pour into the cup of laziness an indistinct cockle. Suddenly what is Moti, the golden butterfly. I am sitting on my silver hair, forgetting the path. Be careful be afraid,Lest he arouse suspicion. Lest it be caught, I am not of the tree, my word is not of the flower.I looked and saw where the bushes had become thick; The hill in front. Forget your immobility in the middle of the day, crawl in groups and play in the clouds. Hotha is a dry stream, the soundless composition is a sign of exhausted sleeping rain.