Vitalii O. Matusevych

My Sonechko, I remember, I miss…

Life is like a stream, Like breathing in and out somewhere in the middle of silence, Did you think when the bell rang, That somewhere more poems will be written about you? All that was left to remember was a gap, Because all the words were one floor less , To write banal poems and a few dreams, In which to wonder if you will ever come again. A unison torn apart by war, Open air through wounds, And endless tears, like a mute prisoner, Like plans that can never be fulfilled. You were and you remain life, Such an uninterrupted firework, That was in the sky and remained there, And during life, and even after death. Your path is now a lesson for everyone, Which no one will cross out and destroy… Did you think you are in your last step, What else will poems be written about you somewhere?