My grandfather s homemade wine
My grandfather's homemade wine
through cheesecloth hissed in a decanter.
The candle is burning, and I dark.
I'm small, I'm single.
I slid my stockings,
and he slouches and ETS
he is old, all will become old,
and we will die, like all...
He says and whispers aloud
strange words of the prayers,
and I'm paying about us two.
Watch knock, the candle is lit.
15 APR. 85
© Copyright: Александр Алейник, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115061405437
Свидетельство о публикации №115061405437
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