Julia Drunina. (№ 81701)

Half of my life we lose because of the rush.
Slowly, we do not notice sometimes
No puddles on the cap of the Russula,
No pain in the depths of your favorite eye...
And just, as they say, at sunset,
Amid the bustle, a prisoner of success, suddenly,
You ruthlessly for the throat grab
Cold hands fear.
He lived on the run, with the Ghost in pursuit,
In networks of care and urgent matters.
And maybe most importantly - and blew...
And maybe most importantly - overlooked...