Inna Yarova

The track is closed, drifting, beyond frigidity minus
The white dragon is the imprint from the gathering yesterday avalanches.
Not the time to zero, but bogged down and stopped...
And every four hours he returned to the circles.

Cat curled up, even the alarm clock,
On the immortality opened, quietly and peacefully asleep...
I was looking through the publicity hyped movies
Snow at the January wind your ballet until morning was drawing.

The sun cold like the imprint of a neon...
And the window, as if in armor clad, tramp Irtysh...
We, the essence of the icons of the screens hoarse from screaming, smartphones,
Midnight had long since passed, and you still don't sleep.

Month at midnight ping-pong verbal captured
So involved, that sometimes forgets to Shine.
Soon the three... only we can't otherwise.
To be or not to be? Our boarding voucher.

And behind love, as always, reigns bad weather,
Though turbulence is just the neighboring area environments.
You're my migratory bird, what will appear the entrance
I don't know. On the edge of the taxiway to let the light...


See also

New and interesting