I fell in love with him for the fact that the day
Was Sunday, and maybe weekday,
And the birds were on duty at altitude,
And read Bunin.
I fell in love with him because hail,
Or it was raining then, I do not remember,
Whether Peter was a fool, or Petrograd,
And Tolstoy read drunkenly.
And read Bulgakov, Yesenin, Blok,
And I imagined everything at once.
I fell in love with him for easy syllables
Re-read at night fairy tales.
He wove from the air and emerged,
He approached me and froze,
The heart hid behind the pile of books,
He looked at me impudently.
Banded with a yellow string,
The books smoothed out a fit of trembling ... Nothing mattered from him,
From me, strangely enough, too ...
PS Mood lyrical recently - autumn is the same, tea with a dogrose (love?), Pies with the smell of apples and cinnamon. And I will not stop eating plums while they are! Recipe for a plum pie is on the site food-hunter.ru, and casseroles with plums - a favorite of this season - look for the tag #eat2slim_zapekanka (a couple of photos back✌️)