Our life is just a letter
In the Akashic Chronicle.
And not even a letter, just a comma.
You, having put an ellipsis in your song,
Passed into other worlds in mid-May.
You and I are in parallel spaces
Close and distant at the same time.
The only difference is that you are now a saint.
We carry the burden of this life.
Dripping from my eyes onto your book of poems
The letters are washed out, corroding the paint with salt.
Only you knew how to smile
And endure unthinkable pain.
You were an accumulator of misery
To make it easier for them, the poor, to live.
It remains for us at the fence
Plant a raspberry bush in the summer ...
About her again
© Copyright: Ладомир Родумилов, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120082906035
Свидетельство о публикации №120082906035
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