Life has gone, flown, raced,
like a train, tired but fast,
days flick by on the rails cars,
this is not what you once dreamed of...
Why are they gray,
blue and green are not visible?
Sad, cold, bitter, insulting,
for winter - not spring, and not summer.
I haven't dreamed of them for a long time,
wind, rain mixed with snow...
Not inside the cars, but behind them,
catching up with the composition, catching up..