Darling, at spring's advent, pigment You have poured,
Its touch gets felt in the psychic garden.
On Your own, You have strewn it in both form and flavor,
Rhythmical in its tune and in mode of music.
Risen has the dormant bud awakening;
By hue it's been whelmed, forgetting surroundings.
Flower petals, they have begun capering
In the dense affection of You only.
The mist has retreated, tints are adhering;
Winter sluggishness, it has gone far afield.
Upon painted branch, the bird has appealed;
With that call Your love ditches sleep.
Its touch gets felt in the psychic garden.
On Your own, You have strewn it in both form and flavor,
Rhythmical in its tune and in mode of music.
Risen has the dormant bud awakening;
By hue it's been whelmed, forgetting surroundings.
Flower petals, they have begun capering
In the dense affection of You only.
The mist has retreated, tints are adhering;
Winter sluggishness, it has gone far afield.
Upon painted branch, the bird has appealed;
With that call Your love ditches sleep.
Sarkarverse article
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In and with love, intensely busy we must be.
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