When March wore a blanket ....

It has been a while I picked up the pen ....
blame it on my frozen thoughts ...snow claden into March ...
missing my piece of that canary sun by my south facing window sill !

 The pristine white outside seems like a shroud ....
over the birds that await to chirp through spring .....
it seems like this blanket chains down a breathless spell!
The wait seems endless ....
desperate at times
like a young girl
waiting for hours by that lonely bus stop ...
to meet her handsome knight .....

Living in this part of the world where snow is that friend I love and then I hate .....
I await spring .....
just like that ink awaits my pen ...
the buds await to bloom ...
the bees awaiting a buzz ...
my words await to spill....

My tempest brews...
This lull does scare ...
For thoughts are caged ...
in a space too tight ...
Spill they must ...
This spell was long ...
My toes too numb ...
To dig out the freeze ...

The white is clean .....
In its untouched sheen ...
The shoot is buried ...
In icy deep...

Though my roots are glued ....my leaf must spring ....
I have held long ...for those bells to ring
The days are long yet the nights are cold ...
The sun seems far from my horizons fold...
I wait my queue  I look for clues ...
I fear ....
I might find my body blue ....

My tempest brews ....
In icy deep...
My tempest brews ..
In hazy sweep...

Chandrima