Abstract Girl

On the wind the cold melody, ringing me through the glass he paints strange notes with his fingers and gently whispers them to my ear. And then, somehow came his power from the sun, from me, I do not know by whom let her hair spring, I became a friend of mine. He gathered his heavenly flutes and the sparrow's house is glued my Notebook handed me, the green leaves of the birch gave away. But how do you have a wind for a friend? it's like flying clouds. . . I Spring Spring I drew in the wind I gave a dream. . .