In Spring

your talk is all of
blooming softly in a dawning warmth of sweet sunlight
and your crooked half-smile
an invitation to join in; appreciate cliche

but I am


in spring

forever churning, raining, shining wildly
a dazzling flash of brilliance
and the afterimage
burned against shut eyelids
of a face unforgotten

flowers cannot survive
my storming
our seasons are not
the same

you should have come to me in summer, my sweet

M.A. Mohanraj
March 7, 1993