You're getting old,
And new female faces
Appear every day
On the Brooklyns’ streets.
Squinting from the bright sun,
You are looking into strangers' eyes
And the cold autumn air
Crackles with each breath...
And you walk down a familiar street,
Rather old young man,
And you are feeling good
Like never before.
***
© Copyright: Александр Штрайхер, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №223022600182
Свидетельство о публикации №223022600182
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