Briskly sun entangles the whim of my curls

I contemplate as I see the far away shrub;

Floating with air, green leaves yet the blotches on its branches

Whims of Earth capitulates myself to all the springs, summers and winters that are yet to come

All small scrublands fly here and there; the first breeze offers the psalms

The blotch of then now becomes the calm haven of the wishful summer

As I lay on the ground, wind quietly touches me, the gentle touch of the beautiful spring

I look up; I see the beauty of falling, the high of highs and the low of lows

The smooth branches of spring and the hard casing of the winter

All are there within; all the springs and winters

My words for the first breeze of this spring;

My pen is again amused with my letters; to relive the moments on my paper

Handed on to become the history!!!!!!!

Mahima Devkota