Then he said
He was just leaving.
May be I'll be more forgiving.
May be he is a bad father,
May be I should talk my mother.
I smiled:
I have my son,
I have my King.
Two years without money,
Cause "money is not everything"
I smiled:
I have my son,
I have my King.
When people asked me
Why you wear the same clothes,
Why I sold my gold ring,
I smiled:
I have my son,
I have my King.
Only once I stood near the fire line.
The God wiped my tears softly
And smiled:
You have your son,
You have your King!
Poems,stories and pictures by Irina Mouravleva.
