I walk hand in hand with my friend
On a road that knows no end.
We sit down, encased in grief.
The cruel sun teases in relief.
“Spring has seen better days,” I say.
He nods; then starts on his way.
The begonia wanders past my eyes.
I look up and then feign surprise.
The Gulmohar makes its presence known;
The Malati has its skills to hone.
The daffodils take no chance;
I see a flight of pigeons dance.
My friend breathes in the numb air
Shielding himself from my glare.
He walks past me without a glance.
I wish he’d told me in advance
He finds me unworthy of his time.
Why did he join me on this climb?
He pushes me to the wall that seems
Buried by my hopes and dreams.
I know him no more. It seems to me
I’ve failed the man I used to be.
I ask him to stay even though
He’s seen many springs come and go.
Mohul Bhowmick is a national-level cricketer, poet, essayist, travel writer and sports journalist from Hyderabad, India. His latest collection of poems – They Were My Heroes – is now out.