Once I felt a strange desire
to halt my pace and look above.
My sight was following a dove
that was ascending up and higher.
I also felt that something ailed.
I asked myself what, but failed
to understand that strange feeling.
It took me time to grasp the truth:
t'was not a dove, it was my youth.
It was departing, it was leaving.
And I was standing in the street,
and helplessly watching it.
I tried to force myself to go -
the feet of wool refused to move.
My youth had fled, I stood aloof,
The sky of evening was aglow.
Спонтанное
© Copyright: Михаил Эфроимский, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116010501609
Свидетельство о публикации №116010501609
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