She is flying high

She is flying high and there is no end
“In the memory of TWA FLIGHT 800 Crash”
(sergei@ptd.net Sergei Polischouk 11/19/1996)

She is flying high and there is no end
No one will wait there, no brother or a friend
And she will fall head down into sand
The she will stand

And up her face will hold
Before the gates of a mansion full of gold
The sun is warm, the ringing bell is cold

He won’t raise voice and what not his won’t waste
He never had bees and didn’t  new it taste

Her servant from a jug will pour her wine
Without labor she will give me mine

She called her servant, told him what to bring
Not even knowing those, who will it drink

They will  go there and they will step on the sand
She loves to fly and likes to hold his hand

And those who ready for them, feeling dread
Not all the salt is suitable for bread

Not all the empty luggage was inside
But those, who are here now, can’t be outside

And shipper never heard what wise man had
There was beginning and there would be end
He didn’t dome alone but with a friend

Their connection was based on a sun
One was the father, the other was his son
They purchased it, have lost it, and they found it

An answer is not said by him who knew
She lived with them, but very lonely grew

Has searched that search, but did not wait that long
Not knowing the razor kept her hair long

It’s snow she loved, but never liked the frost
And he is here now, but that where she was!