Mikita King


Springtime

In the shade beneath the greenest laurel leaves
Rest your thoughts despondent in despair,
Darkness falls upon the littered forest floor,
Amidst brown needles hide away dull care.

On the trembling branches of the chestnut trees
Allow to grow shy thoughts of wistful hope,
Breezes blowing softly on the greening buds
Bring towards sadness an antidote.

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