Plan D

When the fuel tank is, technically speaking, empty
and there's a thunderstorm on your course,
you need to look for a remote  road or a flat meadow
to land your biplane.
It's now called Plan B.

Kids run in their colorful rubber boots.
The first drops of the rain strike the windshield.
The Guardian Angel is so lazy,sleeping like a cat on your lap.
The moment of landing to obscenity is imperceptible.
Dear friend Donald, I know this is hello to me from you.

Plan C in a cherished box.
It still needs to be found
I drink young wine at Matthew's ranch with him and his wife.
I listen to the music of their conversation,
I see the pulsation of the aura they're sharing.
I taste every sip of wine made with fantastic love
I tell them something I don't understand,
for it concerns them, but not me.

Plan D is hidden in your heart.
The stone is already at the bottom,
and the circles spread all over the surface
and it is unknown what point they're going to reach.
Traces, consequences, sequences.
Everything is the state of eternal movement.
All things are just patches of waves.
Cheers!
Let's drink it for love.


© Copyright: Valentin Luchenko, 2015