Dried up,
not just the rivers
but also the tears.
I see a clear sky,
a bright sunshine,
a perfect morning,
a new beginning.
Withered leaves,
beneath blooming buds,
organic manure,
they say.
Bad memories,
behind little smiles,
enriching experiences,
they claim.
I see the sprout,
I hear the cuckoo,
I smell the fresh flowers,
I feel the tender palms,
I taste the ambrosia,
I realize sooner,
nature is the best healer.