Disclaimer: I don't claim any rights to Hetalia.


Do Svidanya

Flurries of pearl, fluttering prisms.

Instead of muted hues, colours strike out with fresh vibrancy.

I dance through streets glossed with white,

Skating along in thick boots over ebony ice.

The scarf I don, riddled with holes

Has yet to warm me; strike out the cold, or otherwise.

I stop in a grey corner, jingle the few coins in my pocket.

Maybe I'll use them now, maybe in a day to come.

General Winter's troops swarmed my cities;

Panic and chill settle down in the snow.

I shoulder my weapon, grimace on my way.

I've a feeling this war will be long.

Tattered and distressed, a weak butterfly of colour,

A shredded propaganda fades into the snow.

Twisting, turning, a labyrinth of stone and ice.

I fumble for a key with frozen fingers.

Briefly I am warmed; the wind soon whistles through the walls.

Tiny faces, swimming eyes are filled with hope and hunger.

Pockets are rifled through,

Hollowed out by hands eager for happiness.

A matryoshka, a tin soldier,

Peeling and rusted, they bring fleeting joy.

I shoulder my burdens, smile on my family.

I've a feeling this war will be long.


A/N: Just a piece from school, and it seemed to apply to Ivan a little. Read, Review, and Enjoy, and have a Happy New Year.

C.D.M.