déjà vu

this morning

warms up

dispassionately reflecting

me and myself

the noisy clatter of chirping birds

and the sounds of the crying babes

are turning into smooth silence

on my ears

my static existence

like a dumb life

amidst the tables chairs

and this sprawling diwan bed

watches its own presence with no bias

i try to watch

the frozen patches of light and wind

torn amidst the branches of a tree

with eyeballs of frozen glass

think i am turning

into an unspoken context and

melting into a silent portrait

of muted witness

i do feel like sinking

into a déjà vu

in a stream of silence

a  mechanical tide of stillness

hanging in an airy vacuum

 spring

~

the nodes of the drying branches sprout

joy peeps out

softness rolls into a bud

cheer blooms

smile of a tiny dew drop waits

buds dawn into flowers

hopes spread

hearts whisper

cherry blossoms become palms

*