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.