It's back

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The same feeling, the same breeze,
the same smell, the same images.

Smells of memories,
memories of joy,
joy of freedom,
and freedom, undefined.

It's the same feeling,
it's the same month of MARCH.
It's back.

I am a writier, as I have the same pen,
and the same paper.

BBut I am a poet, as I have the same zeal,
the same smiles, the same tears.

It is the same sound of the dry leaves.

It's somehow the same poem,
Suddenly, it's the same me...

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