In all capitals there is such a quarter,
Similar to an abandoned pier,
Here a skinny cat will cross the road,
How impudent before a secular lady.
Fence scruffy, porch, doorway
Have even a certain picture ...
And on the balcony, behind the hanging clothes,
Rinsing the hair in the pelvis itself Innocence!
In these streets of children, play is fun.
Here you can hear the noise of the repair shops.
But never pass a Convertible of Success
On these dilapidated sidewalks..
They are always close to the soul of the poet.
Sometimes there are many, many troubles.
Ten mouths in the family.
Not every day is lunch ...
But the smiles of the ocean of greetings!
Rejected
© Copyright: Максим Черников, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117090806772
Свидетельство о публикации №117090806772
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