Inside we were afraid to diminish.
The flowers have come to bloom
Tiny green mangoes are on the way
It is now March and hot is less yet.
Soon there will be a rain shower
That will diminish their flowers;
There will be diminished fruits.
There will be diminished images
Their colours shall become shadows
A few mere greys of March summer.
Mist is migraine and fallen leaves,
Unripe fruits helpless on the earth.
Advertisement
