Moon’s rising like a smoldering loner.
A puppy hides in the corner.
And air tender touch is less
Than fingers thin of a princess.
A cricket chirring in the dark
And all around changed its mark:
All movements have become so easy,
So fast, so airy and dizzy.
We no longer walk but sail
Alone, in pairs like in tale
And now catch each lunar glare -
The houses turned into boats there:
So this’ - a barque, and that’s – a brig.
A cloud came and it was big.
It covered everything around
With mist semi-translucent shroud,
So all around seems to lurking,
It’s gone, it’s vanished, as if joking,
All was absorbed by grayish fog ...
Was it reality or joke?
Who answer? Who will take decision?
Or was it maybe just a vision?
Just a vision?
© Copyright: Владимир Ведерников, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117110302817
Свидетельство о публикации №117110302817
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