Black turned,white clouds,
Their bursting and the lightning.
Falling hails and their sounding,
Dashing hopes in season,spring.
Rain in season of spring,
Seems to be from the angered King.
Streams burst out,waters rebelling,
Blessing rivers with the blessing.
Neither voilets nor the whites,
Flourish under the angry breeze.
Pulling them of their veil,
And of now they won’t conceive.
Winds conspired with naked earth,
Pulling veil and soul of flowers.
No more singing by the breeze,
And no incense from the trees
Amidst,holding no cups,
Are the branches unadorned.
Coloured butterflies won’t flirt,
And honeys wont ease the spring
Dawn emerging from the slumber,
And so do light from dark.
Birds chirp in their voices
Hoping for a revival and of progress and SO DO ME.