We do not expect the winter ... Bashny.Net

< Felix Komarov



We do not expect winters,
But fingers are cold.
We are alive or asleep,
Znobyaschem circling in the dance.

Lace, like a leaf in the winter,
Torn belatedly.
Like a blind puppy
At the entrance station.

Wet nose pokes,
Freezing on the stone belly ...
As whined to us sos?
Bute us like a ball in the hole.

In the corner where the old stuff,
Abandoned tickets ...
And find us moms,
How not to see the light.

The time has come winter.
The snow on the black station.
Each snowflake
dreams We will live again.

Nearing snowfall.
Moment - and the platform zavyuzhit
. Life left the garden,
Smoky beast are.

Black snow falls,
But under the crust of soot.
What is man,
God will tell his dream.