Boris L. Vasiliev. The dawns here are quiet... (№ 157807)

Liza long saw that blue beautiful sky. Gagging, I spat out the dirt and stretched, reaching for him, reaching and believing.
Above the trees floated slowly the sun rays fell on the marsh, and Lisa the last time I saw his light is warm, unbearably bright, as the promise of tomorrow. Up to the last moment believed that it will be tomorrow and for her...