Petar Kostadinov

2020-11-02 10:04 am
Have gentle souls
Have a heart of a sunshine 
The one written word they paint
From their lives with each brush in their hands

The good times
The bad times 
The treasured of times
Their words are best told 
From its beginning to no ending

They paint each season
They create each reason 
They form each line 
As they stand even at the bus line
As they wait for their train to arrive 
As they drive their car they must stop 
At the parking stop and quickly write 
Otherwise they will lose their track of 
Song they want to sing”

(c)10/31/2020 by Petar Kostadinov