BS ( / Balasore, Orissa, India)

No To The Spring

Dry winter had come with biting cold
To take away the leaves from my trees
And the plants from my garden.
The Sun visited for shorter hours
Forcing all to rush back home.

But when the spring came for a while
The cuckoo sang from the top of my tree,
Soft, green shoots appeared in its branches,
The southern wind entered my house,
With soft petals, appeared many roses.

I know, spring would go away soon
Leaving sweet memories behind!

The summer is around setting in
With the rage of an angry sage
And rude has become the sunrays
Making the earth dry and pale.

Fishes in my pond would’ve no water,
The crabs would look for new shelter,
The Streets would be without travelers,
The market would’ve few buyers.
A gloom would descend during daytime
As if it is to mourn the death of a king.

While the winter was long
The summer would even be longer
Within two bad memories is sandwiched
The spring, sweet but shorter.

Likewise, I remember those smiles
So sweet, giving new meanings to my life.
Soon after those short, swift days,
I am back in my old ways.

Now, with the tenderness gone by
I’m finding it harsh everywhere again.
If the days were to be bad again
I wish the spring left me alone;
The fear to see the crow on the trees
In place of the singing cuckoo
Would not haunt me this time
If summer were to come just after the winter.

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