You are twenty, again and again,
In that room I am cursing like hell,
She`s smoking (the ones with menthol),
He`s expecting some message or call…
You are twenty. Forever, for life,
I`m not asking you how or why…
She is sending her child to bed,
He`s in Switzerland (lucky, I bet).
You are twenty. The day I will die,
And the day she will kiss her grandchild,
And the day he`ll turn cynic and grey...
You are twenty and young in your grave.
20
© Copyright: Надя Молнар, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114070805244
Свидетельство о публикации №114070805244
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