It happens like this: grain, pretending to be a loaf of bread,
He decides that he can feed everyone in the world.
It happens like this: a simple reflection in a puddle is the sky,
You can watch, it's impossible to drink.
It happens that: in the mirror the face is a simple face,
What is reflected in it, we immediately do not even understand.
It happens like this: you do not want to, but for some reason you can.
You do not raise your hand, but you want to give it to the face.
It happens like this: that in the life of a friend,
You already betrayed a long time with a smile on your face.
You always treasured your only strong friendship,
And I saw something good that was in a friend - a scoundrel.
Sometimes it does not happen in another way,
And a puddle can appear to the sky,
And the grain is that bread,
Which fed a friend in grief,
And he was just a scoundrel ...
And the world around you will not be your home ...
"REFLECTIONS" Grandpa Go