We are not covered by one blanket,
We are not united by common interests,
We are not connected by the Internet,
Each of us has our own Mount Everest.
Every day we meet different people,
We watch different shows every day.
Each of us looks from his own steeple,
And each of us has our own way.
Maybe falling asleep at night
We sometimes think of each other.
Maybe we forgot each other, right?
And each of us becomes another.
Throwing away the past and turning into strangers,
We will not be born again and will not find our mangers.
23.05.12
P.S. Painting by Boris Vallejo
Aliens
© Copyright: Юрий Птицын, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №223060300209
Свидетельство о публикации №223060300209
Рецензии
А это вам про Ад, о котором заикнулись в своём резюме.
http://proza.ru/2019/11/25/1987
Николай Павлов Юрьевский 25.11.2023 08:01 • Заявить о нарушении
http://proza.ru/2019/11/25/1987
Николай Павлов Юрьевский 25.11.2023 08:01 • Заявить о нарушении
Thanks, dear Nikolai, for your review!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99Ln7Z9hwyQ&t=37s
My best regards!
Юрий Птицын 25.11.2023 13:46 Заявить о нарушении
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=99Ln7Z9hwyQ&t=37s
My best regards!
Юрий Птицын 25.11.2023 13:46 Заявить о нарушении