Tread softly, the poet said, on my dreams.
Ukraine: a girl with a hunger for life
Took a detour on her way to school
To pick some early snowdrops for the class,
And some as a present for the teacher.
Cowardice is not equal in a war:
If you run from fighting, you are punished,
But if you scarper after laying mines,
You are feted as a hero, adorned
With medals, as your unknown victim nears.
Her tread was soft, but to no avail;
The dumb device makes no such distinction.
Her dead hand still held the snowdrops; her dreams
Live on, caressing the hopes of us all.