When the autumnal wind assails yellowed leaves
The orchestra of spring echoes each heart,
A senseless strife does begin to depart
Then into reality a dream gently cleaves.
The ghostly shadows of the nature’s ribs
And the crimson lips grown thin and pale
Disappear hearing the cuckoo, male,
Become for many, their scribbling nibs.
Springtime greetings appear on the spikes
Flaming through intoxicated branches undressed
In their murmuring moods and repressed
And a bloom on the wider wounds of dislikes,
A maiden of spring veiling does smile
And beckon me to write in rhyming style.