It seemed we played it to the beat.
The whole summer. Our heat.
But having met you in the street,
I got that in replay is beat.
We’re pressing REC.
Then pushing STOP.
But all those pauses
don’t make a swap.
The streets are full.
The crowds fleet.
Apart we are.
We miss the beat.
I want that blues
to be departed.
You’re my muse,
but broken-hearted.
I’m singing blues -
the cure’s being started.
Don’t wait in queues.
Come in. I bide it.
Escape that silence.
Hear the basses?
To feel no violence
fill up the glasses.
we need replay
© Copyright: Довженко Елена, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112082606135
Свидетельство о публикации №112082606135
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