Naively waiting for friendship, he’d go,
Straight through the red light, forward, slow.
Through others’ pain, his steps were bold,
Unaware of the years he had left, untold.
Nothing could surprise him, nothing could lure,
No tricks could shake his spirit, pure.
He’s one who knows where peace may dwell,
And one who deeply trusts in people well.
Sad souls’ dark pictures can’t replace
The silver strands upon his face,
Yet joy still shines in his gentle gaze,
A quiet light in all his days.
Just the warm wind by the bay so mild
Caresses him, silent, soft and wild.
And skies above, vast, wide and free,
Will gift him love once more – you’ll see.
Yours, Assorov, 2018, July
Photo from the author’s archive.
Saint Petersburg, Peter and Paul Fortress, 2018.
Naive, awaiting for friendship
© Copyright: Виктор Ассоров, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126032005404
Свидетельство о публикации №126032005404
Рецензии