Inna Yarova

The only one shoulder buckled, fell to the ground from yesterday's snow... there was a dawn, but weakened force, which granted was over. You were sure that this happiness... to breathe and think in unison – neither from war nor from the change of government, nor from the wind, from all sides, the world independent. He equilibrium. And like the Buddha inexplicable. And the bread and the experience is fresh, and the day comes and his ilk.

Freedom – angel in the sky! But the wings – the feathers, not armor. And, like beads, small demon – a poem about the impermanence of life. February weather is abnormal... and, indeed, just the end of winter. Waterproof bag tea with immunity from the word "we".

Chimera – chemistry... lyrics by God, but how to get the drafts! He, perhaps, a mile way, and edit manuscripts with no hands – the brain would reduce... but life will teach it, guys, your the best quest... He did not need companions, He used to bear his cross.

And we? Flying in their orbits, welcome to angel – piece by piece. And the stronger that it is not killed that file of crumpled – to the news. Spring in the Bud in dormant buds and in black holes cold shower... But the stranger suddenly say: "Daughter, as the bones are getting cold from these chill". It's true... the beam will extend our hands-strands and voices, together with etching and, maybe, become a little higher, to the sky looking up.


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