I wrote this poem right after Sergei's death. It's not a very good poem, but it expressed my feelings about his death at that time:

The two glide over the ice
Hearts in Unison,
Skates intertwined,
With their faces full of love.

At age 11 she met him,
He at 15, young and energetic
She fell hard for him
So young but could not get his face to turn

Suddenly, a day of light,
He opened his eyes and saw instead of
a small tiny girl,
A beautiful young lady

After all those years of
Being together, he married her and
Danced away to the place
Where love forever conquers

Out of that love came a
Special baby girl named Daria,
Dasha by nickname.

Years pass and they reenter
The competitions they did years ago,
And with an easy sweep,
The gold medals are hung at their necks,
Pride and love the only things they feel

Happy and fulfilled, with love
She skates not to the audience
But to her Sergei, and to the
Little one running around

When she skates, she sees only him.
Hand in hand
Strength joined in strength,
Love with love

One night she is filled with
joy, with her husband on one side,
Their daughter on the other.
Happiness fills her heart as she thinks of the future.

The next night the happiness that
Once filled the room
Are replaced with dark shadows
That haunt her and her friends.

In a faraway light, not visible
To her and others,
Someone was lifted from the ground.
A sould that fills with only love and who
Wishes her not to worry.
All of a sudden, he is gone.

Now she skates by herself,
No more skates intertwined,
No more hearts,
But instead, a broken one.

He is there in soul and spirit,
Yet when she reaches her hand out to hold his,
There is no one there.
There will never be another one of such love and magic, a fairy tale life.

She used to see in the mirror G&G,
But G is all she sees now as tears begin to fall.

"My Sergei, my life,
In this time G&G
Will forever be no more
But you shall always
Remain in my heart."

The time you won your town the race
We chaired you through the market-place;
Man and boy stood cheering by,
And home we brought you shoulder-high.

To-day, the road all runners come,
Shoulder-high we bring you home,
And set you at your threshold down,
Townsman of a stiller town.

Smart lad, to slip betimes away
From fields where glory does not stay,
And early though the laurel grows
It withers quicker than the rose.

Eyes the shady night has shut
Cannot see the record cut,
And silence sounds no worse than cheers
After earth has stopped the ears:

Now you will not swell the rout
Of lads that wore their honors out,
Runners whom reknown outran
And the name died before the man.

So set, before the echoes fade,
The fleet foot on the sill of shade,
And hold to the low lintel up
The still-defended challenge-cup.

And round that early-laurelled head
Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,
And find unwithered on its curls
The garland briefer than a girl's.