Warm things home in boxesb by mail,
Children no longer trust textbooks or exercise books;
Gray dandelions fly into the blue eternity,
We are slowly returning home,
At least some of us,
Maybe most.
Maybe I'll inhale lilac, maybe it will be easier…
Maybe I'll find a haze on the slopes of the Dnieper…
How old are we now, after February 24?
Wait, is it still us? Didn't I forget anything?