Catkins
You grow up by the river
In the calm open youthful abode
At the touch of the royal wind of spring
You enhance the beauty of nature
A couple of love is busy on your carpet
In mysterious spiritual conversations
The white herons fly with the kiss of white cloud,
And by the gravity of your whiteness
The poet docks in the boat of heart
At your warm convention of a dancing wharf
The estuary of breaking all dreams is rebuilt
In the forest of your rapturous rejuvenation
You are not a wildflower
You are my darling Catkins
03.09.2020 Chattogram
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