Creative Chronicles: At The End Of Spring

A tender bud, in silent dreams confined,

Lay sealed within its petals, gently bound.

While countless blooms were kissed by golden light,

Its fragile leaves stayed hidden, safe from sound.

Longing for a breeze, so cool and kind,

To feel soft rays upon its waiting skin.

It yearned to taste the warmth it watched from far,

As time slipped by, and seasons settled in.

When at last its petals dared to part,

With hope still trembling in its core—

The ruthless sun burned down without remorse,

Dry leaves wept beneath the barren tree.

The world had moved, the colors drained away,

And spring grew thin with quiet cruelty.

It only bloomed

Penned By:

Rtr. Sandaru Herath

General Member

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