A daughter's hand so tender,
A painting of love, with birds she's rendered.
She thinks they're souls, to visit they flew,
Birds like the starlight, memories they drew.
A father in battle, forever lost,
A mother whose life, at violent cost.
A child at play when bombs rained down,
Their spirits now soar, in love they're bound.
These birds take flight to loved ones dear,
To watch and sing, their presence near.
I raise my glass, a toast I say,
To those we've lost, with hearts that weigh.
With fine Obolon, our glasses clink,
As memories flow, and hearts still link.
In love and loss, these birds take wing,
Their spirits close, and memories sing.
And as we journey through life's play,
Their presence lingers, day by day.
In starlight skies, their songs we hear,
A gentle reminder, they're always near.