Spring is measured in buds and birds,
Fuzzy feelings, elusive words,
Misty mornings and dazzling days.
Light envelops the world and stays
Playing whimsical tunes on leaves,
Contradicting what one believes:
Life is lost in a timeless maze.
All is fleeting.
But spring remains.
what remains
© Copyright: Людмила Прасад, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126102101175
Свидетельство о публикации №126102101175
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