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We meet here again
but I am alone
shielded by forsythia
behind memories
forged and forgotten
in fields that have
seen snow and rain
lain desolate
before seasons change
and drifting winds carry
sounds of birdsong
to end winter's silence.
We meet again but
I am alone
with golden bells that
chime your presence
as they rise from the earth
warm once more.
© Neetu
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