Victoria Grigorishina. - Cricket, how warm... (№ 403319)

- Cricket, how much warm summer is left? Soyka asked.
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"Summer is over," the cricket smiled.
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- And what will you do when there is no summer?
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- I'll wait for spring. Long rainy autumn and snowy winter. While you will slap in puddles and catch diamond snowflakes with your mouth, roll in the wool of a sweater and drink cocoa. Light the lights on the shaggy Christmas tree and cut out the figures of ginger men from sticky dough, sledding and treated for colds.
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I will fall asleep under an old chestnut until the first drop of snow melting in March. And when the first snowdre wakes up, it will definitely wake me up.
And only it will get warmer and things will go to the first May ones, I will definitely come under your window and, as in the old days, I will hit the strings. I will play long and tirelessly until you run out into the evening coolness in your new white dress, because you will definitely grow out of the old ones.
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- Cricket?
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- What, Soyka?
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- I'll be thinking of you all the yellow autumn and white winter. Come not to May, but as soon as the last snow melts.