Walking through the woods is like a dream.
The spring and summer make this dream lively:
Listening to jungle babblers chit chat is unknowingly pleasing,
Seeing the sun gleam with joy and refreshment makes me smile too,
And the vast and open sky with colorful butterflies
Looks like a painter’s divine canvas,
And the swinging trees are a cradle for the gentle eggs,
Helping them to be comfortable and calm,
The soothing lavender is the perfume,
And the old and big neem tree is a cooler for the visitor.
But the thought of winter makes me anxious:
The tree won’t swing gently, the sun won’t spread happiness,
The wind will become harsh and the chit-chatting birds will go,
The butterflies will disappear from the painter’s canvas,
Ending this dream, this transformation.
These fears make me feel this is my last chance to see;
They make me live in the moment, so I can remember this dream forever.
Pahal Bhasin is an 11-year-old budding poet. She studies in the sixth grade at Excelsior American School in Gurugram, India. Her hobbies include poetry, singing, dancing, drawing, volleyball, fencing, and playing the piano.
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