Seasonal Feels
Spring~
Spring comes with a suffocating fragrance of newly cut grass and flowers in bloom. The winter carpet are long gone. The Sun’s rays bullying the white carpet to melt itself, now replaced by the small green grasses with colourful dots of flowers.
Butterflies and bees buzz around the fields, roaming in a dance unknown to the world. In a rhythm of their own, they sway tirelessly through miles for nectar. An incentive for them so more flowers can bloom till the summer heat mercilessly takes them away.
I hate spring. Everything takes on a colourful cheer. Everything’s painted in a light that is so bright its blinding.
Its suffocating, fake and everything I cannot stand. Maybe it’s only me. I love the scorching sun, the dampen monsoon, the awkward autumn air or the icy winters.
Sadly for the love of me, I cannot stand the mellow spring. Its the season of new beginnings, of hopes, of bloom. For me it is a season of endings. Its the Monday of the week - the end for me, where it is a beginning for the others.
Still sitting alone in my room surrounded by books its comfortable.
If I close all the windows, draw the curtains, turn on my desk light, no one can tell me what season it is right outside my window. The air in my room and the air outside don't mingle. Thus I, in my own cocoon am spared of the pollens and dusts that would others tickle and bind me in my bed for weeks.
Yes, I don't like spring because of the innumerable hardships that come along with it. For the butterflies they are incentives for me its an unnecessary nuisance.
In my little shelter, I can leisurely dream. Dream of you and how you would be here with me in my shelter. Spending this season in my arms for now the weather is comfortable to lay together and not be frozen by the cold nor be sweaty from the heat.
You like spring. It brings you freedom, You love walking the meadows - barefooted wearing a flowing dress, A straw hat adorning your head and your curls freely just soaking all the sun rays - free and floaty. Just like you...
Something I’m not, so shackled by the everything, I can never run alone in the fields, too paranoid of unknown things, that might trip me over. Everyday I dream of the coldness that was an old friend that left my hand so soon, now as the weather heats up so does my fever of wanting to be with you.
Maybe soon, this feverish temptations that keeps rising with each frozen bud that gets defrosted by the sun will burn me and I wont have to live with the consequences of my own actions.
As I lay on my bed, sprawled without a care, a sudden urge to look at the fields rises up like the waves on the beach. I stand up, finally opening the blinds (for the first time today).
The windows open with a creak and right there I could see the fields rolling over the landscape, only sloping into the horizon at the far end. There were only a few scattered clouds on the plain azure sky.
Pleasant, everything felt pleasant almost hushed. The air came rushing into my small sanctuary replacing all the little whispers of wishes that I had mumbled into the room. The inside and the outside are linked now mingling as one.
The window became a tunnel, I stepped closer to the scenery outside.
Ah! Yes there you were, right there in the fields. Tranquility seeped from your silhouette as you danced around in the long grasses. You don't look like you have your shoes on, I look a bit further and there they were near the big apple tree.
Twirling around you seem to be one with the butterflies that came fluttering by around you, as if you were a nymph of the valley.
Slowly after doing a full circle you sat done right on the grass, its probably soft, the mud not too hardened but not too mushy. There were many dandelions though still white, later they’ll fill the fields giving it a golden hue.
I sit down, gazing at you from afar, its nice. A sharp pang hits my chest but I ignore it for now, I'm used to it over the years. Yet, I look down where you now sat fiddling with daisies. You were making something by the looks of it. You're nimble fingers worked away at something. Probably something cute, you always have liked making small trinkets and decorations.
Time seems to stop for a moment, as if taking a breath after aeons of staying underwater. You look up from down the fields, and as if a deer caught in the headlights I sit there with my heart pounding loudly. It wasn't something new, this looking, yet I felt ashamed, caught in an act that was forbidden.
Still looking at me, you're eyes captivating me not to look away, you tore a dandelion from your vicinity. Without looking away you blew it in my direction.
The winds change. A gust of wind blows right in my face, it feels like I'm near the helipad when it takes off. The dandelions stray everywhere, yet one lone seedling floats over the valley, right into my room. As if directed in a movie, it lands on the diary that I kept to write everything down. The one that had words that haven't reached you yet, but I want them to.
I watch its path as if lands there, I look back and you are no longer there in the fields. My heart is still pounding ever so loudly, I'm afraid that even the apple tree can hear it.
Suddenly there is a knock on the door, with eyes wide open in apprehension I open it. There you were in person, a soft olive green dress with your hair open and tennis shoes. Your brown eyes sparkled more than ever like moonstones in starlight.
Stunned I just stand there, a few beats pass. You walk in bypassing me and jump on the unmade bed. It almost feels like I walked into your room and note the other way around. To be honest everything I have already has your name etched on it.
Your eyes dart over my room, you seem to be searching for something and finally they land on the lone dandelion that lay peacefully over the brown diary. You pick it up, silently you look over as if asking for permission.
I can only silently nod, for everything else seems to have frozen. The world holds its breath again. The sound of turning pages as your fingers glide over the pages that held some of the overflowing emotions that needed a container for the past years. Gently you turned them, your fingers seem to be soaking those feelings.
Silently I watch, with trepidation of the worst. I can almost feel the tears that are just waiting for the guillotine to drop for them to take over like a broken dam.
Minutes pass as you carefully look over the pages, your face never giving away your feelings. Yet, your eyes seem to glaze over. I cannot stand this anymore, I walk around. I close the door. Coming around to where you sat, I sat myself on the chair.
If the storm came at least I could close the windows and keep the storm inside now.
Though the storm never came.
The last page turns and you look at me. “All this? About Me?” You speak in a whisper. My throat felt dry, words shrivelled up on my tongue. I nod.
Your face morphs into something softer than before. Youre eyes not half moon presents but a small smile slips by. My heart still pounds away.
I walk over, the bed bounces a bit as I sit at the corner. Still not satisfied it seems, you pull me, as the mattress dips I fall by your side. Every inch of my side is touching you. Is this what they say that the sinner bursts into flames when an angel touches them?
You pull something from behind you, it was a daisy crown. I hadn’t noticed in my anxious state the small jewellery you had made. Its beautiful just like you.
You pull me down and place it on my head. Happy you smile brightly now, while I can only blush. You aren’t done it seems, taking another smaller piece of work, you ask for my hand.
It takes while for my brain to catch up to your gestures. Flustered I out my right hand out, you grasp it with your left hand and slowly out the ring with a single daffodil adorning the top.
The tears flow freely now as I look at my hands clasped in yours where you wear the same ring of daffodil.
Before I know it, you held me in your arms, so serene. The room now filled with a pleasant silence now.
Finally I could hold you in my arms knowing you are mine. We both know it now. I look at your eyes, the silence posing the question. You nod.
And I kissed you there in the room overlooking the dandelion filled fields.
“Mine” I asked.
“Yours” you replied.
------------------------------->The End<---------------------------------
