Guardian feb 23
FOUR SEASONS GONE
Four seasons gone,
No more waiting,
No waiting for flowers, birds
Songs of their own season;
By the ponds or riverside,
By the huts or flats, mood
Of songs , verses overflow,
Touching the like minded,
Poetry alive now ;
Each time, you move,
Each move you undertake,
Each vibrant verse, you sing
with inspired mood
and move
ahead, filled with echo of patriot
and his sacrifice ;
verses and
poems will go on
undisturbed, warriors name
in boards and signs stamped.signs stamped.
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