HOPES

The day windy, cold and dry,

Peeps down a grey still sky,

A pair of doves hidden somewhere sigh,

The cold breeze is prickly and spry.

A white sheet of snow masks,

For some air the grass gasps,

White flakes and zephyr both clasp,

Life seeping in through the trickles and cracks. 

Inside the four red brick walls a fire burns,

Waiting impatiently for warm days to return,

Crackling away in the fiery cavern,

With just a lantern as its companion.

Out in the open the leafless branches stare,

The roots deep down the white snow under,

Yester years peep through the white glare,

Smelling new hopes in the floating wintery air.

©®Madhumita