I would come back

 

but the roads are hidden.

 

Though many times were ridden

 

they haven't left any tracks.

 

 

 

I would come as a spring dawn

 

breaking the winter's yearning,

 

greeting the beauty of the morning,

 

the first flowers on the lawn.

 

 

 

I would come as a tender rain,

 

as an April thaw in springs.

 

I would grow big wings

 

but the idea is inane and brings pain.

 

 

 

I would come as a lilac sunset,

 

as silver or amber early dew.

 

I would become a real mew,

 

 

fly to you and sing a duet.

 

 

 

Larisa R (Odessa, Ukraine)