It was just yesterday
That I wrote a poem
to the early spring.
Blooming flowers in my garden
soothe my heavy heart,
every bud glowing green;
Spring is a work of art.
The hollow earth
beneath my feet
is now as lively as a new born,
Sometimes I feel I romanticise
spring too much
but, I am not willing to unlearn.
It’s April now.
It’s sowing in the hills
and plains don’t know
what to feel about that,
Maybe because the world
isn’t over the beauty of winter
yet.
In return, spring gave me
early rains
Humid winds came knocking
on my window,
Altostratus clouds are hovering over
and the spring wrote, “to be continued…”
I have lost my train of thoughts.
It feels like my ‘self’ moved on
but my shadow is still there,
In the snow
And everywhere.
a.mermaid'spen_ 