Sunday, January 21, 2018

Spring

I cannot write about Spring.


Spring never came.
I bought it
bottled in pots with blooming dahlias and big, big flowers
(what are they called?)


But it never came.


The bottles
after their expiry date
withered.


I remember the summers
the winters
and the autumns
(especially the autumns)
But Spring?
It never came.

2 comments:

Vandana Sharma said...

Another awesome poem. Sometimes hope is just not enough ad at time one gives it up.

How do we know said...

Vandana ji: :) Thank you!!