Moskva
A cup of coffee.
Ice-cream at the end of May
and the golden towers in st. Vasily's church.
It's not the Kremlin
which frightens us,
but the chill at heart
which will not fade away
in the heat of the approaching summer;
It's the fear
which freezes our face and spine....
A stranger would never understand
the pain or if there is
a touch of sweetness
beyond the cold....
The end of May. Two days ago.
A cup of coffee. An ice-cream cone.
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