Yes...
I heard... the Spring is here...
out in the mustard fields...of gold...
in the gardens of yore...
yes, I heard... spring is here...
I try and search for spring
in the concrete walls
in the tar
of my city's roads...
there are shadows...
and there are skeletons...
of spring...
lost between the folds
of people's cries...
spring aches...
aches to be released...
vomited out...
there's the vulgarity of spring...
in the city's heart it waits...
to adorn its flashy robes
waits to catch a prey...
would it succeed??
we've forgotten spring here...
the roads and bare walls
remind us of only emptiness
and pain...
and so much anxiety
trapped in our veins...
yes... I heard spring is here...
out in the mustard fields... of gold...
in the gardens of yore...
yes...
I heard...
