Sour cherries, crown daisies and sweet daffodils
Motley ballads of winter, for summer to sing
Fleeting nectar on fire, passion’s lasting fills
Strewn sins of desire, broken beads of spring

Lingering scents of delusion, deepening blushes of past
Weary soul of solstice, teary fruit of wilds’ fling
Of many bygone seasons, never born to last
Bathed in blood of treasons, broken beads of spring

Cuckold coos the cuckoo’s mate, who sins in the shrubs
Of the flair of the follies, haunting joys of yearning
To the realm besotted, like hearts of cherubs
Ever-spent, ever-knotted, broken beads of spring

More sublime nature’s lies, than its glory’s guile
Hidden mystiques of Lord, below dead rustling
Rotting woods moan the pain, of life with smile
Words of psalm profane, broken beads of spring

© 2016 Vikas Chandra