Early Spring

I am walking back from somewhere. Slowly. Hands in jeans pockets. Another pair of hands grasping onto my right arm. Holding it firmly. And tightly. Never to let go. And always to stay and hold on. Her head is resting on my shoulder, her eyes closed and her lips curled up from the cool breeze.
We walk. As I guide her along. We walk. Past the dirty and old stone director. We walk. On the brownish pathway. We walk. Amidst the rows of green bushes. We walk. Underneath the flowery canopy. We walk. The sun blessing us. We walk, all along.