They Speak

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They have a language of their own. They speak through colors. They speak through numbers. In winter they beautify our garden. A shock of red and yellow in the midst of green soothes the eyes. How much ever I keep looking at them, the eyes wish to continue to look at them, that time never stopped, that I didn't have to leave the place to attend to other things. I love winter and it pains me to see them when it bids good bye. It's going to be a long wait once they're gone.