North to poltava Travelling through the forests and snow

GYPSY STORY

Our childhood is engrained in my mind. With each passing day, I remember our place next to the Vorskla River, where in that warm summer, you took my t-shirt on some pretense.

I feel the same way as we did that night. You were in your yellow jacket, as we strolled down the path, seeing our reflections in the window display, holding on to every little moment. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.

Winter suddenly knocked at our door, and the forest gave us hope, with snow seeping on our skin.

The visit to Poltava reminds me of the past, where I saw you there so far away, and as I grew closer so did the reality of illusion. These are my lying eyes and a gypsy’s immortal love.

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