It's strange — the rain, the sudden cold —
But I am floating, off the ground.
Maybe it's the storm I hold,
Or something I just found.
The screen glowed. Words came back alive.
Not mine alone — a give, a take.
A quiet, disappearing knife
That cut the silence for God's sake.
Tomorrow — squares of light and glass,
Many faces, one in frame.
I'll smile at someone as I pass —
But hide the reason, hide the flame.
Don't ask what changed today, my friend.
I couldn't tell you if I tried.
Let the rain have its bitter end —
Inside: spring, warm, and wide.
A good storm day
© Copyright: Евгеша Семёнова, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126040706386
Свидетельство о публикации №126040706386
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