When my town gets delightly covered
With fog
I take out of the cupboard
My mug
And pour myself some coffee and honey
I add.
The day is soft and sunny
And mad.
I’m picking up the telephone
And with my hands
As cold as stone
I dial your number.
Across the world your voice is grumbling:
Good morning!
Tojru-goodmorning!
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123040304644
Свидетельство о публикации №123040304644
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