Where - that thunder in the distance the thunder and the lightning flashes to remind you about the end of childhood.
You're going to walk through the park, full of yellow leaves. Feet you will throw them into the air, and the wind will pick up them and circling in the air waltz, reminding you that the school song, under which you are saying goodbye to childhood. Waltz, waltz school ...
My new boots you will step on the wet asphalt. And hide under the umbrella of the drizzle. The breeze will develop your blond curls. On cheeks will drip drops of rain. And no one would guess that it does not rain and the tears ... Hot, salty and ... not for children.
Do you love fall, love this sweet old woman who sprays everywhere yellow. That hoarse wind blows away from you fatigue, sadness, and all the problems. Do you trust her. She had so much time with you, when you were so bad. She comforted you gold, cried with you rain, thunder angry with you ...
She was walking with you alone in the evenings in the park. With you hurt gloomy sky. Growing up with you and me. She never betrayed you, do not cheat and do not rush. She was always with you. But when she left, she always came back. Unlike him. Unlike childhood. It is gone forever. And do not you leave, except a few memories. It takes with it all. All good, all bright, carefree, cheerful and is sincere.
Childhood. It goes without saying goodbye. Without leaving a phone number or address or ICQ. And there are only broken memories and photos that you see a pretty girl smiling with which you do not want to say goodbye. But we have to. And you say "Goodbye", and that - that was broken inside you that - then disappeared. A part of you has died. And the girl in the photo - it's you ... rather, have not you, but a memory ...
... And now you go to the park, walking with new boots on the wet asphalt, and tossing in the air gold leaves. Wind picks them up in the air and turning waltz, you remember the school song and hiding under an umbrella. Wind develops your blond locks, and his cheeks are flowing droplets ... Rain. You're not crying, no. You rejoice. Yes, childhood is gone, it will not return. But it has left so many memories. School Time: Lessons from the break. Beloved friends, the first disappointment, first tears, first joy, the first win, first kiss, first love ... real children's love, which turned into an adult, because could be with you.
And of course you're not crying, because you and I remained still the same dear old lady, autumn. She again with you. She does not give up, even if you leave, it will still come back ...
No, any, some, any
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