Old toys

< Oleg Nikof



As the days - I Sunday and Saturday
Do not honor, for the status of "red" days off, -
Routine imminent work
Tradition entrusted to them ...

And my Dad ... He was a hardened,
Tradition considering picnics ...
What we took bream fishing ...
How delicious smell of barbecue smoke!

And - Saturday ... I ran away from home -
In working order, "poluneglizhe» -
Hides in an old, familiar from childhood,
Father's garage dusty ...

Today - not the usual cleaning,
And the sad pre-market surroundings:
For seven years, sold "Six»,
And then came the turn: Now - garage ...

There are things that everyone has forgotten,
Lay pylyas - some of the stuff is the use?
And suddenly, on a shelf, under "carpets" of dust,
With toys I found cubicle ...

The box rusted machines,
Pistons and click "revolver» ...
They lie silently "Russian soldiers»,
And once broken drum ...

But my "ZIL" - a favorite ... ... Beskolёsny
I wiped the dust and clutched it in his hand ...
And - I myself? - Why should I hide the tears? -
I read at the bottom: "tse ruble forty-ke» ...

I admit, I did not see the tears in Batey,
Although, it did not escape the trouble ...

Forgive me, Father, that cry so inappropriately.
I was happy, believe me, in those years ...