The road is curving
And so do I,
At the backseat of your car;
The complex impressions that city implies
Are outside — and so far;
Are we trapped in a Moscow maze
Or create it with every turn?
Your silent gesture
Makes me dream
Of the story with no return;
Reflecting the present
And making it shine,
Polished by late-night rain;
We move,
Dazed by the glory of distant stars
And the perfect light that they feign.
20.05.2016
The Road is Curving
© Copyright: Ирина Стародубцева 3, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119010705345
Свидетельство о публикации №119010705345
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