Spring//
I wake up from my afternoon siesta,
With the aroma of petrichor.
It must have rained hard,
While I slept with my dreams obscure.
The rain drops were still hanging by the eaves,
As I finally heard the cuckoo sing.
Something magical in that tune,
Something that heralds the spring.
I followed the melody of the cuckoo,
And stood gazing the Eastern sky.
I saw not one but two rainbows,
A sight too good to be a lie.
A gentle breeze caressed my face,
While I gazed the unique scene.
The world suddenly seems so captivating,
When infused with the magic of spring.
(c) Anurag Talukdar
Beautiful