Spring is a smiling maid one day.
Gentle and warm she scatters fragrance
And dressed in sprigs of May
bends sensuously her merry dance.
She will not stay,
But loves to reappear disguised.
She sheds the garb of youth and play,
and shudders in a cloak of ice.
Coquette
She teases.
Chameleon of changing hue.
Wind blowing from the north
Transposed by whispered breezes.
How can we believe in you?
3 comments:
ok, this is the third time I"m trying to leave you a comment because I seemed to have forgotten which address and password I was using before!
J'aime ta poésie "Eleonor"...continue d'écrire!
I will soon do more blogging too, and I hope you'll follow me! ;)
Joyeuses Pâques!
J
oops, mispelled Eleanor...désolée!
J
Nicely said! So true of this year.
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