Highway through the fields
First dirty, then blue, then lights of the point
Of go and come back
Madrid and Bangkok, New York and Dubai
The flights to the West, the flights from the East
I’m waiting for you, not knowing you face
A coffee machine, the bags on the floor
In dark, where it snows, they stay in the lines
They wait or have rest, and yours is still far
I’m buying crosswords, not knowing your face
Not knowing my face you’re still in the air
Not knowing that fate
Has chosen the date
Has chosen the place
We’re already here
About the airport
© Copyright: Пигглет, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103121500849
Свидетельство о публикации №103121500849
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