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IMOGENE’S NOTEBOOK | TRUE COLORS
Missing pieces of a Spring
A poem
Framed photos hang in my parents’ room,
of mustard blooms and a past spring.
Yellow landscapes leaning on us
drenched, knee-deep in laughter.
We talk about repainting the faded plaster
and retouch the captured colours,
but love had always looked brighter
in the grasp of my little hands.
For years, I have searched for the memory.
For that fragrance of four-petal flowers,
washed cotton clothes, and thawed grass.
They say smells can take you back decades.
Sometimes, a glimpse of that spring appears
in the warmth of someone’s breath,
in echoing melodies and a dimpled smile,
or under the soft, sifted light of the cherry blossoms.
Perhaps, if I mount these on my walls
and practise my words for a lifetime,
Spring would visit once more with her heart,
a smile, and all the missing pieces.
© Madhuvandhi Ravi 2025
This poem was written for the Imogene’s Notebook poetry prompt/challenge.
