We can hurt a woman.
What a trifle, she would forgive.
Then we will hate ourselves.
And there is not a woman, and life will change you.
What a trifle. And we think otherwise.
She in the pillow at night quietly cries.
And life flies as if on the sly.
Don't hurt her, she's a girl.
And she told me:
"I'm alive.
Love, warmth and affection I want.
And if you have a big soul,
You share, as in twenty, I wish.
And love me sweetly, sweetly.
As if for the first time, stealthily.
And you kissed me gently on the lips,
Not that you're a toothless old stump now.
***
© Copyright: Римма Егоровна Белоусова, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206861
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206861
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