A little more

We are but of another clime, I know,
And everywhere I go
The trees, they whisper -
So are the seasons four!

But the seasons they tend,
To have their own way.
Sometimes I wonder,
How do they blend?

The dry winter leaves
Then fly gently at my feet.
Reminding me of the winding winds,
In between the seasons that weave.

How do you do it?
I ask the wind,
Have a little more faith,
Use all your might to cast away doubt,
He said, more importantly,
Dream, but a little more

And my hope, little heaves,
And I smile...
Dream, but a little more.

© Shilpa Maiya