The author's unforgettable love for Russia is felt in every line. Wherever Lyubov Fedorovna lives or is, everywhere her thoughts and aspirations are about her beloved Motherland: “My soul is there, in my native land, Where it is so calm and reliable. Through the years I carry love, But my heart is anxious. Who has stayed there since childhood, the feather grass, muddy steppes? From afar I send greetings to everyone, Wishing happiness and longevity...” At the same time, Lyubov Fedorovna does not part with her other favorite theme - singing the beauties of Nature: “Inescapable joy in the soul and delight In the passing autumn, aching elements. The syllable will be reddened again, blush with generosity, And lie in the square of the toothy stichera...” The war, which left a scar in the author’s childish soul, still haunts and “bleeds”: Quietly and quietly in the hospital ward. The advertising light slides along the walls. A disabled war veteran dies on a government hospital bed. Fatigue has settled on my shoulders, And the fragments burn mercilessly..."