Perhaps it’s that time of the year,
Bees dancing in an infinite loop,
Heaps of fortunes thrown into hoops,
Laughters and chantings, greetings,
And swearings, all blossoming from roots.
Ah, it must be that time of the year
My feet are grounded deep into the groove,
Petals of flowers prance around loose
Perhaps gust of wind’ll knock on window
Perhaps sun’ll be the only witness you are right.
9.9.2019
Ralph with Coffee 