The spring advents with the ponderous steps,

And its vista of green, blue and red,

All but veiled under the web of silence and desertion,

The downy breeze moans with the rustling memories,

All leap out of the coffin of the departed year,

And haunt the floors of the locked down house,

The memories of the wallowing cow,

Spraying and splashing water from the green pond,

The soft and fair feet,

 Tapping upon the growth of passionate grass,

The curved bodies in the dancing grace,

Twirl in colours, red and gold,

The delicacies smoke in the house, upon its own hearth,

And the air weaves its music,

Spreading the yarns of synchronized sounds,

Of beating drums and blowing flutes,

Of the trotting guests,

And of the clanks of serving dishes,

Of the singing voice and choreographed steps,

But memories mow down the despondency,

With their rosy smiles and promise in their eyes,

To cast away their shadowy forms,

And cuddle all in living arms,

In the year, next,

When the world heals and ambles again.   

………..Dr. Fathema Begum