It’s deliciously fat,
with a beauty of a cow’s eye,
with the smell of indigo colors,
exploding like a mandarin.
I turned my back,
to wait for the right moment,
to see your cinematic entrance
into the garden
full of flour,
resting on my eyelashes.
I skated an iron iron,
making rounds around you,
illuminating with fireworks
with hands,
full of ingredients for
a cake.
Was it cheesy
enough?
Ժիրայր Ավետիսյանի բլոգը 
Թողնել մեկնաբանություն