I was writing you letters of sorrow.
On the words where hand doesn't drog
Investitions your sob were borrow -
You on snivels don't hear the log.
I did love you with tremelous point,
By the trema divined on the lips.
Our baby would born as a coin
From infection, dramatics and tips.
Coming go to the glorious country
Your cruiser was giving two darks -
For the science of soldiering monkery
And singing of cornfield skylarks.
Skylark
© Copyright: Владимир Баренбойм, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111051502002
Свидетельство о публикации №111051502002
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