Sunday, March 24, 2013

flimsy clouds

after you left
spring is amid clusters
of hollow words

when the sky becomes golden
with expectations
I look out for seeds of rain

a blue chested bird
resumes its babble to its mate

Yet I'm no fruit-fly
to buzz around vines

I rather like the quiet pigeon
picking up days in its feeder

after you left
spring is amid sunsets
with flimsy clouds

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