This year they bloomed late,
Actually not, wasn’t now the original spring date?

I remember back in school,
How at the prismatic garden we used to drool,
How vibrant and picturesque it looked,
Specially the dainty sweet peas as over the winding path they overlooked,

I also recall the pretty pink primroses over the arcs,
The velvety green moss over the pine barks,
The gladioli spread across a neat line,
Standing upright as if competing with the neighbouring pine,

Since then I have a thing for flowers,
They are my retreat, my comfort, my very own bower,

So this year when they took their time to bloom,
I thought I was doomed,
I looked out in dismay,
At the white fog or smog at display,

But that is in the past now,
I can spot a hint of colour on the bough,
Is that the nasturtium peeking through,
Oh how gorgeous is that coral hue,

Today I saw the gazania in all its glory,
Outstretched, radiant and every bit laudatory,

I felt happy again,
To see the motley of the flowers their place gain,
I love the yellows and the reds,
I love to see them sprouting in their beds,

Oh how I love the spring season,
For my upbeat mood, it is the reason