IT WAS SUMMER...

Summer Nights

summer night pale face, short of piercing eyes, And I'm, like the Creator, under the glass rain stargazing.All
look in the mirror height - Somewhere reflection of God, And the stars are merged into a bridge, and get a little closer.
Among them somewhere in my light, my Destined from birth, I was able to return home - in a world of hope, love and forgiveness.
The Earth - a brief refuge, That night - did not have time to look around, somewhere in the sky, and remember we are waiting for, and of course one will wait.
There will be no pain, no tears, there's all clear, easily understandable, and hurries my eyelids Star dog - one that knows the way back.
dissolved in the dead of night - Everything ends, late or early ... And all smiles and I smile Belogub Moran.
Will her fingers are cold, it will whisper chilling.Why do I suddenly without spring Everything seems unreal?
And Universe From this loving gaze of God to a grain of sand Why do I understand - Nothing without you I do not have in hea
ven?
I used to wait for the call to the door, confused, ask: What happened?And in response - what do we do now?I forget you- failed.

was summer

was not summer rainy day - too hot and stuffy, quickly faded sky the color of the clouds, however, without you I do not need the gift of summer - No scented gardens or cornflowers in the rye.I
forecasts hundred days on a step does not fit - door held shut - not to let the door.But in the palms of my reason I was snow-white - poplar fluffy "snow".
I waited for rain - heavy and cold to swim in this humidity like the river, Like a dog in a motley pack of stray dogs I dreamed of one thing - a master hand.
only autumn is hardly a miracle happens - Autumn, in general, is also something total.But now I will never forget how the maple leaf should be circled me.
And scattered the silent winter whites, hiding on the fingers of sleeping birch branches.As the blizzard me, sleeping, singing, If the seams on the pillow wet with tears?
the morning I scratched wrist of icicles and catch tongue sticky residue on hands, and on the city all day, fell snowflakes to melt on someone's hot lips ...
And again full circle ringing in the spring, where the snow did not survive, cold- no return, where the smell of lilac with leaves whispering, and a nightingale sings impossible to sleep.
I did not call this May, these early dawns, I burned pupil thin ray of gold, but how can spring be for life in a quarrel, if a rainbow in the sky and the smell of the storm?
Maybe I was wrong and did not understand the simple?... The leaf - and down, and snowflake in the window - Somewhere beating heart your expensive and you think, too, the whole year for me ...