Odessa.

Early morning.

Sonia is yawning.

Her dressing gown is satiny.

This night was just a symphony

in a company of her Antonie.

She was sure he was her destiny.

All they did was in such a harmony.

With those thoughts she went to the balcony.

But … suddenly she has heard a noise.

It sounded with an irony.

It was her neighbor’s voice.

• Listen, Sonia!

Are you sick?

At night I saw the doctor

leaving your place so quick.

Do you have anything chronic?

• Oh, dear Bella!

        What are you talking about?

I am not a Cinderella,

but would like to be logic.

You have to admit that…

your tongue is a culprit.

One day you’ll pay for it.

And now I’ll tell you more:

When that colonel your place parted

I didn’t shout that the war had already started.

 

©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)

The 10^th of September, 2012