The Heart On the Palm of My Hand.
The heart on the palm of my hand.
Winter thoughts go around behind windows like snowflakes.
Trams are rushing.
They are sending dreams to sleeping houses.
The wind has stopped,
and roofs want to fly into the sky.
I love you, and I write to you again.
Stand near a window, please,
and look into the night.
The white horses are running,
handbells – the stars – are calling in the sky.
I give you my silly heart in the palm of my hand.
Take it, please.
Do not drive it out to the blizzard garden.
Copyright © Dina Televitskaya | Year Posted 2007
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