Autumn
When autumn catches the unwary gardens
All the sightseers leave it to itself
It wails on its fate
On the destruction of all its blooms
Remembering the spring air
Its heart bleeds
Can someone assure my weary garden
That spring air is itself
eagerly waiting for it
Unless it endures the freezing cold
How can spring air come into its fold
Copyright © Irfana Ali Bhat | Year Posted 2012
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