Solomiya chuyko


My infant palms held your infant mass

As we swayed amongst tall meadow grass

The shade of your pelt, a dusty gray

Cooked golden bronze under each sun-ray


The nightingale’s song once pleased your ears

Its sweet-sounding voice repealed your fears

Now all that’s heard is your feeble breath

As you gasp and heave - flirting with death


The spirited beat of your savage heart

Curtailed its pace as lungs tore apart

Your jellybean eyes, once sea-foam blue

Now pastel in color, bid me adieu


My youthful zeal knew not its limits

The clasp of my hands smothered in minutes

Now all is calm beyond the black sea

Dear miniature lop, return to me