on my hand,
a tulip.
Draw with the cobalt pen
and I will dream
that it is
purple.
I will see it
blossom.
In the spring.
And
the sky-blue stream of
my vein feeds it pure
crystal water.
And
on my palm
will be a spring.
Blood will pour to my heart.
And the wound in him
will heal.
My heart will blossom
of the secret hills
of Kiev.
I will lived with flowers
in my soul.
In my essence,
I become a flower.
Author Bio:
Iryna Lialko was born 1981 in Ukraine. She is a performer and painter currently working in Tennessee. This is her first publication. You can visit her at: www.lialko.com.ua