"When we will be 85 ..."

When I'm eighty-five,
When I start to lose slippers,
In the broth to soften the bread slices,
Knit scarves too long,
Walk holding the walls and cabinets,
And for a long time gazing at the sky,
When all the women,
What is given to me now,
To spend and will be all the same - to sleep, wake up, wake up or not.
Out of sight in his lifetime
I will draw your way carefully,
And lips smile faintly.

© Vera Butko 2004

When I'm eighty-five,
At home I will seek your slippers,
Grumbling that it is difficult to bend me,
Wear some ridiculous scarves
Of those that for me to contact you.
And in the morning, waking up before dawn,
I listen to your respiration,
Suddenly a smile and quietly hug.
When I'm eighty-five,
With you I will blow dust particles,
Your gray curls correct
And hand in hand, in a public garden for a walk.
And we are not afraid to die will,
When we will be eighty-five ...

© Vadim Zinchuk 2008

Photos in the preview: pinterest.com

via ru.pinterest.com/pin/161003755402827393/


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