In a slanting beam, the road dust remains,
The tea grows cold in cups we left behind.
This world at times feels heavy on the mind,
When inevitable hours end our days.
But in a quiet "how are you?" dwells more
Of truth than crowds of strangers bring.
Our shadows drink the same retreating spring,
As we both cling to life’s receding shore.
Let evening knit its knots of sleepy grace,
And silence stretch across each weary brow —
We have a strength to lean upon right now,
While hearts are still too pure for being base.
I’m grateful you exist. Beyond all dates,
Beyond all logic, weather, or the fray.
From thousands of the thinnest threads in some soft way,
Our common quiet garden recreates.
January, 2026
*Alice L. July*
To My Friend
© Copyright: Ольга Андреевна Соловьёва, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126012806500
Свидетельство о публикации №126012806500
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