the death of spring...
summer and winter fell in love and had a child,
they called it spring.
winter loved spring too much
they called it spring.
winter loved spring too much
and her icy caress killed him.
buried under the leaves of the trees between them,
buried under the leaves of the trees between them,
lay him.
they never talked again.
they had another child,
they never talked again.
they had another child,
they called him spring all the same.
but spring was gone;
but spring was gone;
deep within the death and beauty of red autumn.
2 Comments:
Interesting poetry, it seems. One day I'll take time out to read it. One day. For now, I leave you with a link to my piece of crap:
http://www.pkblogs.com/gulbadan/
my my....symbolism toh khatam hai teera peh...at least that is the thinking of "this scribes cerebellum"
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