Poems have been coming on their own.
Like an old friend appears with some wine.
And we just slowly drink the whole bottle.
Under the rapidly assembled simple snack.
Poems have been coming on their own.
It’s really boring to suffer over papers.
And with them all I live under blue heaven
Some I send to the oven, some to print.
When I'm having fun, I don't notice them often,
It doesn't matter that there is no blank slate.
And only when despair suddenly seizes,
“How to continue to live?” Then I'll go write.
Poems are like antidepressants,
I leave the pain on a random paper sheet.
And for others they are an antidote,
Just to return to the world still as yourself.
I want all of my memories together.
They followed me, even if it was hard.
When I put my two oars in the water.
Read this, please, after our breaking up.
Poems
© Copyright: Павел Ишанов, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124020603214
Свидетельство о публикации №124020603214
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