Дмитрий Алёхин – 400 Poems (страница 5)

The chair is empty, yes it's true,

But love still sits there, right on cue.

No body there, but still a glow,

A thing that time cannot turn low.

Just Tonight

Let the dishes stay undone,

Let the day be lost or won.

Let the floor stay on its own,

I will rest here, all alone.

Just tonight, I will be still,

Let the world go up the hill.

Just tonight, no need to fight,

I will hold myself so tight.

The Pencil

A simple pencil in my hand,

Can draw a house or draw a land.

It makes mistakes, but that's okay,

An eraser takes them all away.

It grows so short with every line,

A little death, but that's a sign:

That I have used it well and true,

A life well spent is life I knew.

Waiting for the Bus

The bench is cold, the wind is light,

I watch the cars in black and white.

The sky is big, the clouds are slow,

I have no place I need to go.

The bus will come, the bus will leave,

I sit and watch and breathe and breathe.

A moment here, a pause so plain,

Is not a loss, it is a gain.

The Cat on the Wall

A ginger cat with paws so small,

Is sitting proudly on the wall.

It cleans its face with perfect grace,

And looks at me, then down the place.

It does not care about the time,

It does not try to make a rhyme.

It just exists, so calm, so free,

That cat on the wall is teaching me.

The First Bite

The bread is warm, the butter melts,

The best of all the things I've felt.

I close my eyes, I take a bite,

The world goes quiet, soft, and light.

No fancy dish, no big expense,

Just simple food that makes sense.

The first bite knows just what to do,

It says: I am here for you.

A Letter Never Sent

I wrote some words upon a page,

About my heart, about my age.

I told the truth, I said it all,

The big, the small, the rise, the fall.

But I did not send it, no I didn't,

The moment passed, the feeling hidden.

Sometimes it helps just to write it down,

To hold the words, to own the crown.

The Laundry Basket

The clothes are piled, a mountain high,

A job I always put off, why?

I grab a sock, I find its friend,

The search goes on until the end.

But in the basket, soft and warm,

There is a peace inside the storm.