a poem by Aishani Goswami

Now the frosted wind flies away
The sweet flowers rise again
I don’t know when and how
The pleasant Spring comes again.

I wake up with the sun;
I talk to flowers;
I can hear the wind whisper,
“Come, enjoy the weather now.
Who knows what will happen
A day after this,
As surly this will not last forever.
The Sun is dressing for Summer,
The clouds with rain.”

“O’ Spring, come here next year,
And we’ll play like today”.