She comes breaking through the ice
Smothering the earth with her brilliance
Loving it back to life again
Softening the cold hearth
Even the clouds want in
melting in her warmth
raining down
on fresh delicate beginnings
Puddles are born
and then they die
where they go
they return as ice
And the sun spends endless hours
up there in the sky
so busy, ignoring
the heat waves
soon the call of the South
pulls down the sun
days grow shorter
and winter comes.
Tasnim
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