Spring Will Come
P Pradip Chattopadhyay
0
Altın Yaprak
Under a grey winter sky
I pause while passing by
Dryness bares its fangs
On a bare thread hangs
Leaves desperate to hang on
Down below the grounds beckon.
For a moment a little doubt
Would new leaves sprout?
From surround serene and calm
I hear the winds hum
No doubt the spring will come.
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