Thursday, March 22, 2012


I see the first blossoms of spring
And the green leaves on strengthened trees.
The stream runs free over white rocks
Past valleys teeming with wild flowers
And bright freshly painted houses
With white picket fences. The smell
Of cooking wafts in to my place
And a yearning for home-cooked meals
Stirs within me. The skies are blue
Except a small patch of white clouds
That flits in the East. I stand alone
At my window watching the birds
Build their nests in anticipation
Of things to come. I keep aside
My dog-eared book and remember
Your dark smile and the kohl-lined eyes;
It is not evening yet. The song
That was lurking all day in my heart
I let loose: Spring is already here.

Diptesh Ghosh

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