A seasonal farewell
Poetry
Hammered into closed windows are the last traces of winter. My senses worship the gliding softness of the receding season.
I wield a pen aimlessly yet it proceeds to unfold many a phrases in a checkered notebook.
My thoughts reconcile with the breeze seeping in through cracks, beckoning the gleam of poetry
The nightly hour filters through lanes of chaos and makes people engage with musings of their own.
Stray animals pause, the hoarseness of their voices mild and without malice. Maneuvering through every heart are flames of wisdom and stillness. Darkness is frayed in places.
Soaking in the wintry streams of delight, the fireflies roam.
‘Sing’ the wind whispers. ‘Sing till the dawn for the morning sun might bury the aura of winter, rendering a pause to a winter dream.’
Prior to that, however, the song birds would weave a last sonnet to commemorate the fading snow, and plants would gaze at the skies, nodding their heads in farewell to the departing season.
