You carry blue skies on your shoulders,
You, the hometown of mine, and your borders -
They're made of forests, miles and miles around.
And every day the roads full of cars,
And people - they're walking, running,
Talking, digging the ground, searching gold,
Mines building, cutting forests, oars plunging
Into waters, when sitting in their boats.
Life great or small, here, both young and old -
They're having thoughts, that have sprung
Under the sun - it's shining, travelling, continuing
The path, making old younger, young one bold.
So coming here by train the stranger soon will find,
That small town life is not that cold,
And deep emotions one can grow when nature will His heart will hold.
Tynda
© Copyright: Никита Гусляков, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125042901793
Свидетельство о публикации №125042901793
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