<pre class="ql-syntax" spellcheck="false">On the wings of my white horse I meet you 
On the papers of my longing, I contain you
Then I scatter you like rose petals on the road
No eagerness of the heart tells of my longing 
Not touching fingers might wake him up 
There are no remnants of fleeting, hasty conversation 
A deep whisper may be satisfied
It's a few hours of meeting 
There is no need for us to exaggerate 
And it did not give us all the happiness.
November 2024
</pre>

Africa

Wings of the white horse

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Wings of the white horse

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