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By Atish Chattopadhyay

She came in the winter

I asked," why so old?"

Winter passed away felling al the leaves

It was dry around and cold

Misty wind was showing its game

Environ became like sold

She came in the spring

I asked, “why so bold?"

Green leaves were expressing everywhere

Flowers were extending hands to hold

I loved that regeneration

And you are my gold !

By Atish Chattopadhyay

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