Spring II

No wonder,
looking at the leaves,
reminds me of a box of crayons.

It is spring.

The chilly saplings
in the pot
may never yield anything
more than green leaves
or white flowers
that whither sooner than
they appear.
But,
it is spring.

Growing up in the city
can take its toll
but manicured gardens get spring too.
Besides,
It is the air
laden with hope,
misery,
Smog,
pollen
and above all
the smell of spring.

There is a strange stench in the air -
of change
that cancer brings —
Irreversible change.

When multiplication
doesn’t mean life anymore.

For the sprouts
there is also
Fresh breath
and through it
Fragrance.

For a part of us
and some of us,
It is still spring.

March 11, 2008