in a traffic jam, usually he comes home, dad, then he understands that dad is not there, and i say, luzh miss him, he yes, i miss him, he is like, well, it's okay, mom, he says, you know , he says, dad is at war, we need to free up the house, we need to help people, so he says, he will free everything now and come back, that is, he knows this, well, the child, well , he understands, before the trip he prepared them right here, although it seems like he is... not there, but he said that it should be so, so we did it like it should be, that is, we cleaned it up, back, everything hung, now it hangs, with thoughts of home, family, servicemen sing to the guitar, in moments of calm there is no better rest than a soulful song, say soldiers. in the autumn park, the city falsifies, the birch foliage, and we lie. before the throw, the leaf fall completely covered us, covered the benches and tables, covered the silent stretch of ponds, covered the cold trunks of logs, machine-gun nests, dew settled on the bolt and it is dreamed, cheerful may and you want. close your eyes, but don't close your eyes,