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Taking in his tiny hand a small bug, the kid asked:
"Mom, what kind of bug is this?"
"It's a firefly."
Despite the fact that it is small, it can emit light.

The kid thought about it and asked:
- Why is it glowing?
- A firefly is a child of light, but it shines only at night.
When other bugs sleep, he stands guard over the light, illuminating the path to those who need it.
Fireflies are not so much to light up the night, but when they light their flashlights, people think that these are the precious stones scattered on the ground.



"It's good to be a firefly!" - clapped joyfully the kid in hands.
"I would so like to become a firefly," he added sadly.
"Do not be sad, my sun," she said, taking her son's hand softly in her hand. "When a person does good and gives love, he brings light, the more good things he does, the more the light flares up in him."



It is difficult to see such people among other people, they can be felt by heart, because their flashlights are their hearts, and the fire in them is bright and warm.
The Lord and the angels, seeing from heaven, see their golden hearts and rejoice.

Create love and goodness and become a firefly!

Tatyana Simonova



Today Katya has a holiday and she will be a princess.
And what princess?
On the Rights of the Fairies I appoint her a princess of fireflies!
Let the day pass fabulously with a lot of surprises and delights!


In the magic of sunset, the evening fades,
In the magic of sunrise, the moon hides,
Angels at night light candles,
Fairy-tale fantasies your life is full.

In the old castle, the elves gathered for the feast
And the princess turns, lightness is full,
The lonely wanderer peeped in,
In the spray of the waterfall rocks cling.

The sleeping forest is shrouded in a star-covered veil,
Fireflies flying beckon lights,
Fairy magician slowly, tiredly
In the depths he sinks all your dreams.

Do not be sad, dear, the whole world outside the door,
Smile, wake up, look out the window,
There you will see pine trees, a new day shines,
You paint faster than life canvas ...

Olga Severova-Constance


Vladimir Kush Road To Mexico



Allan Teger. There, on unknown paths ....



On the road, do not play!
However, anything can happen ...
I certainly would not play,
I'm cautious.
Only my sister said:
Chess - road!
We have absolutely nothing to do with it!
Blame for hockey with the ball.
Or rather, that tractor,
What pounced on the ball.
Oh!!! Wow!
And left - shai ...
It is a pity that this month is May ...




3. On the road I read,
I'm composing puzzles ...
If I'm sitting in a tram,
Or, there, in the trolley.
For an hour the teacher is strict
We were proved yesterday:
Do not play on the road!
And we know: for the road
(True, very few)
There is also one game.
Catching up. Or rally.
It is a pity that we were not invited there ...








* * *
I live in the hope that Elena will ever dream of me,
From the depths of polyethylene I'll get a pince-nez then,
And a solar prominence, that dream in my mind,
I'll start rushing at rivals with a growl like a lion.
Struck by the mysterious Elena on the slope of the Sokolov life,
Cupid, hunting in the universe, I enrolled in his catch.
Tragedies and melodramas will fill my days, alas:
Until death, the image of this lady can not be taken out of my head,
The terrible heat in Siberia, overshooting, is breaking the record,
Plants are black as weights, and the flowerbed is a pure still life.
And I'm not Casanova, I'm closer in spirit - Odysseus.
Mixed all the shades of the Word in my miserable head.
The house smells of dried lilac, lost sleep and appetite,
A letter from France flies to me by a pike.
Faster e-mails are not in this world anything,
Without Lena's letters, steadily my substance wilts.
But she, melting alarm, is sad, I hope, about me,
And eagerly eats cherry yogurt, playing with her daughter in the storm.
As long as these games last, how can I overcome myself,
The love of hope, like tigers, tears my flesh all night long
Because of the disorder of the apparatus, the spirit will take off the body, like a coat ...
Lenochka has a wit, talents, and what's under the dress?
There, on unknown paths, many wonders crowd ...
But the body is only the soul of the cover ... What is the specific gravity of the soul?
Jealousy has an iron claw and a multi-barreled rifle ...
Oh, how I want to touch, kiss her everywhere ...
I'm doubting killed, I'm without Elena, like without hands
And rhetoric is unnamed and only a Ph.D.,
With a dream, having corrected all the flaws, Helen burned down with passion ...
I do not believe that the monkey came from a beloved one!

Anatoly Sokolov


by  Pino art for sale


June bloomed ...

Hello friends!
Well, celebrate me, celebrate! ))
I always put on your birthday posts for you - with treats and entertainment.
And today I decided to be indiscreet and put the post to myself.
But I hope that you will be pleased with this bright positive naive painting.
After all, even the great Henri Matisse said: "You study, you learn, but you guard the original naïveté. It has to be within you, as desire for drink is within the drunkard or love is within the lover."
Let your life be as colorful and warm as these illustrations!


June bloomed ...
It was hot ...
And above the flowers the butterflies flew!
A number of bees buzzing buzzing.
At that very moment
There was a shout.
So there was a new man.
And the ballerina was called by the ballerina.



Screamed like that,
That the loft had risen,
And on the table lezginka danced.
That's how she continued life all along.
The girl named Irina ...
Like a dragonfly, she sang and danced all
And even sometimes with dragons flew,
And her grandmother mamzelka magnified.






And my childhood was going ...
Loved it all ...
And the memory does not allow to forget that happiness.
And if suddenly some kind of bad weather,
Then he returns there again,
Where were the warm years
And close to all people who are dear to the heart.
Which I will never forget.


by Howard Behrens art for sale