Spring

Even though spring is not here
It is near.
There is a warmth in the air,
The sun is here after a whole season.

The flowers are supposed to bloom.
But they are drying, shedding their gloom.
Old leaves have turned yellow,
Even while new leaves are yet to sprout.

The thick blanket is comfortable but suffocating,
Windows are wide open, the fan is cold and welcoming.
Woollens have been packed and kept inside
An occasional shawl finds its place across warm shoulders.

I am in between seasons
A sense of familiarity is clinging, but giving way to reasons
To see beyond the immediate tomorrow.
Even though a day is also uncertain.

Faith is blooming in unexpected corners
It is not cold, but old habits are comforting, warmer.
There is a blindness; I don’t know what even the next lane holds.
However, there is no way out but to walk the steps

One after the other.

~insight07
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