Most of the year she stands like a known

Too familiar one,

A tree like others that surround our house,

Giving company to other trees,

Winter, autumn, summer,

She stands by and large quiet

Barring those mild rustle

That breeze stirs up in her,

She stands as if looking at me

Through my window of bedroom,

Knowing exactly what novels do I read on my sleepless nights,

What movies I do watch of lonely evenings,

Which ways I adore my wife,

Knowing the colors of cushions and bedspread,

And also of curtains which sometimes stand between her and me,

Like veil,

But come spring

She will break out into red lustrous hues,

She will deck herself up so gaudily

That I simply can’t move away my stare from her,

I gaze and gaze like some one struck by beauty,

Come spring,

She turns into a fairy

And gives me wondrous sense of love.

                                                                          ~Moinak Dutta

                                                                           Kolkata, India