Birds do sing in winter.
Leaves fall and touch the ground.
The grass is white in the morning.
Time passes by like a tortoise.
Sun smiles from afar.
Angels riding bicycles send post,
To remind us about past debts.
Those who lived before, paid them alive.
While some walk around, not knowing which to pay.
To get a ticket to heaven.
Some are still waiting for death, dead.
You won’t see them or smell them