Beneath The London's Sky
M
Mihaela Pirjol
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Looking out my attic's window,
On a freezing-cold November day,
Upon the dull-grey London's sky;
A flock of starlings delights my eyes.
The houses, symmetrically aligned,
Appear to bear the mystery of earth;
My spirit, is howling like wolves,
In a stagnant hibernation, bruised.
Sombre like the weather is this mood:
Nothing in life seem of no good...
Frightened like a sparrow my heart beats,
And melancholia, with my loneliness it feeds.
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