Stay outside,
Smell the fragrance
Of the spring
On the trees.
The wind carries
Your name
That I lost somewhere.
Inside,
Souls ache in the house,
No spring announces
Its call.
You can never touch
What you lost,
Love is a sweet little agony,
Making you sympathetic
To the world around you.
You know we are broken
Like mirrors,
And still reflecting.
My past is not seasonal.
.
© Sushant Thapa
Biratnagar-13, Nepal
Picture Nick Victor
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