Trains come
And go.
A storm trapped me at this station.
Callous straightness of the railways,
Back-polished seats.
The mist after the rain
Dressed the pregnant hills,
Emptied clouds creep slowly -
This is a stillicide of dreams.
That day the train
Just didn't come.
Because it never does.
Trains
© Copyright: Егор Лановенко, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108060800351
Свидетельство о публикации №108060800351
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