Those are just birds,
Your everyday birds in the cold sky
Of the early spring.
Just silly birds flipping their wings,
Washing them in the air,
Damp and cold.
The birds that have always been there.
The hollow cries in the crispy sky.
Then why do I shiver and cringe
Why there is a lump in my throat...
Those are just birds,
I keep saying to myself...
Just birds
Just birds
...
©Роман Штромберг, автор.