Silent Colors

Ringing bells, tied to the wings of a knight’s nightingale,

 Is it the melody of the bells or fraught cry of that gale?

I wonder now, subduing the space amid spring and autumn

Ringing bells, reminiscing of the spring that is forgotten

So which is it, I wonder in delight and bewilderment

Is it autumn or the spring that has passed in wilderness?

Both – autumn and spring start with colors of glee,

But only one of them makes me sentinel as you flee,

I wonder now, in great puzzlement - is it autumn or is it spring?

Ringing bells, that is how I know of unveiling the colors to cling,

In great agony, I sit here still, drowning in the sunrise,

As the sun matches the colors of overflowing blood at rest,

Wherever it is, it still goes on – bamboozling between colors;

Ringing bells, take me to a doodling confusion of floral,

Disguise the colors of spring in the linen ruffles of autumn. 

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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