The chirping bird at my window sill,
Wakes me from my slumber deep.
The sweet smell of blossoms carried on the wind,
Plays on my senses no longer asleep.
Spring is here once again at last,
Awakening from the winter frost.
My streets are drowned in colour once more,
The dead brown trees are dead no more.
The gentle dawn breeze rustles the blooms,
And the branches heavy with their fragrant burden,
Shudder and sprinkle some of the encumbrance,
To colour the waiting earth below.
The noise of the birds nesting in the trees,
Rises and falls as it travels on the breeze.
People are taking a stroll on the streets,
Their spirits lifted by the unending treats.
The melody of the birds, the fragrant air,
The crispy freshness of the atmosphere,
The foliage of the old trees joining above
In canopies of deep and soothing shade.
The plentiful flowers blooming in their beds,
Unleash a sea of colours wild.
So the city becomes a heaven on earth,
An artist's pallette, an angel's ride.
The heart cannot but rejoice the sight,
For before too long they will be gone.
Leaving behind only memories,
Of spring in my streets and the endless delight.
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