Birds of different countries fluttered aimlessly amongst the mist;
One told the other, just this once, only this once;

They give, and give, so torrid and ablaze, that there were no ends;
Just this once, only this once; muttered all their senses;

Yet they flurried away, whimpered to stop but not to stop; So much to give, so much to gain;

Balmy spring was in the air, and warmer feathers in the nest;
They promised the storm is now over, or would it really?

Along came a gentle wind, so gentle that they did know not; they are drifting in breeze, the gentlest breeze they couldn’t resist.

And that was love. 


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