Weeds grow where they want to; not where they're told to...
Perestroika Silence
remember, sister
helicopters in the dark
oversized insects
red-eyed
stirring polka dots
on night’s black overcoat
gazing out the window
into the eastern sky
we used to count them,
monotonous humming -
our lullaby
when the Russians left
their airbase abandoned
when our part of the world
had almost blended with the other
sleep eluded me for hours
in this long awaited silence
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