Spring is Getting Old
Spring always comes back
No matter how old I am
Somehow each returning spring
Seems older than the previous
Though every spring is fresh and new
Reflected from my eyes
Its luster is getting dimmer
Perhaps my failing sight is to blame
For aging the season
As when spring comes back
It still chases away winter chill
But days are warming up too soon
Where is the freshness of the vernal breeze
The sweetness of the spring air
And what about the spring rains
They used to moisten the earth
Bring back green grass and colorful flowers
Promise good harvests for crops
Look at the dry cracked lands
They used to be lush fields
Weaving spring fantasy
Now they are like Earth’s aged skin
Full of wrinkles
Oh! spring is getting old
Home
She hated all
Her daughter
Who brought her here
Those strangers surrounding her
In this place
She missed her home
Where she raised her children
All grown up and left
Where frustrations and fantasies
Were woven into her life in days of yore
Only memories left
But they are slowly evading her
Just like her failing strength
Leading to her many falls
And loss of her independence
Though she refused to accept
This place as her home
Insidiously her resistance
was yielding inch by inch
The nurses’ tender care
Gradually softened her heart
And expelled her aversion
Unknown since when
She has started
To call this place her home
Spring Lost
It’s time for spring to return
En route it got lost
Its view is obscured by gun smoke
Its returning path bombed
Spring can’t find a detour
Roads are occupied
By miles of the invader’s tanks
And trucks loaded with ammunitions
Spring is deeply saddened
Lands are scorched by fireballs of bombs
No trees or grass left to be awakened
No flowers will bloom under rubbles
So many homes were blasted by enemies
Millions of people fleeing in panic
No laughter will be heard
When snow thaws, days turn warm
Spring is wailing helplessly
It is going to be strangled
Single-handed by the barbaric warlord
Desperately it is screaming for help
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