Retrospective Poem by Moushumi moushumi

So long we fight in flames
Every moment and each day
Something played all through…
How much they sound,
How much I cursed you,
And at the end of that frightful night
It has nothing to do with the
Next morning might; a crisp
Another day, repeat and repeat
Till showers fill a top as before.

Why the cuckoo sings the first spring?
As though we also start caging
He will hand me one poem
“Retrospective, ” may it be blank and white.