Tuesday, February 13, 2018

Spring

There is Spring through my window
And memories of a long winter past
Leaves and shadows are smiling at me
For a recognition, they hope would last.

May be Spring hides in her an anomaly,
Camouflaged in feathers and melodious duets;
Conspiracies and blossoming flowers at noon,
Alas! Who's more anomalous than the Poet?

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