POETRY

Dreams,
running wild or hunting me,
exactly where I met them a thousand years ago:
in valleys,
in forests among the trees
which are the most beautiful things ,
earth has chosen to show itself,
and by the rivers with racing hearts.

A quiet voice whispers at me:
Have they forgotten,
that you are the valleys,the forests and the trees,
the rivers with the racing hearts,
and the dreams ?

By:Albina Shehetila

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