Autumn, swirling its late comers, just the few that are remaining.
Transfer station, weird, uncanny, some get on, some are deplaning.
Wind, nostalgic, barely blowing, gently melting on our faces.
See you soon, dear friends, we're going, flying to far away places.
Anxious, full of expectations, we await the coming changes,
Past betrayals healed by stations as the road both curves and ranges
Snowy crosses barely remnant on a kerchief of blue spaces
Leaving what I am, and am not, flying to far away places
Were we but to stop, one wishes, look around ourselves and gather.
We keep spinning like the dishes of a restless homing radar.
Dressed a fox, the Fall does call us, and a blue sky that embraces
and our fates fall in all colors, flying to far away places
Where is he, the winged devil, body of an alligator
What a pity times are evil, could we have been born, but later
May the snow keep falling, falling, without melting on our faces
May we find a dream, enthralling, flying to far away places
Author notes: http://www.bards.ru/archives/part.php?id=15767
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