From Monday’s frown,

To Friday’s cheery sound,

Misha is on my merry mind.

With January’s snow

And August’s warm glow

Misha blooms a peony in my heart.

When war breaks,

The world shakes; But,

Misha is most kind.

Like a busy bee napping on petals,

Is drunk on pollen’s fuzzy love.

Misha is my other part.