“Won’t you help me to wear my trousers?..” –
The rich man asked her, the heat and the blowers…
Dirt filled the air. On the shelf were some dollars.
He has just satisfied his lust.
He’s just gone. Disgust and cold kept her.
Ashamed, she covered herself in a wrap fur.
An hour or later she had even forgotten
How she hated and how he’s disgust.
The weather that spring surprised with its softness.
And we had keen senses of beauty and blondness.
She used to drink whisky just not to feel helpless.
But really she felt all alone.
What the hell she’s been doing? Although it seemed sore,
She didn’t believe she behaved like a whore.
Just making some money?.. She wanted it more,
To have it in plenty, to have in galore.
Insensible “Miss Mary Stone”…
Mary Stone
© Copyright: Полина Гонсалес, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111061708752
Свидетельство о публикации №111061708752
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