in the beautiful, the sad, the grand, the small hours, there’s her voice. like when there are no kopeks, but there are the friends, the loves, the ones that shake you.
You Will Hear Thunder
You will hear thunder and remember me,
And think: she wanted storms. The rim
Of the sky will be the colour of hard crimson,
And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire.
That day in Moscow, it will all come true,
when, for the last time, I take my leave,
And hasten to the heights that I have longed for,
Leaving my shadow still to be with you.
thanks to readalittlepoetry.wordpress.com