Yet spring still blooms

Yet spring still blooms,
Glass in between 
Unreachable perfumes 
Drenched in spleen.

Yet spring still blooms,
Outside golden leaves;
Inside grey rooms
Lifeless air to breathe.

Yet spring still blooms,
Behind concrete walls.
Far away dreams of the noons
Before our locked up doors. 

Yet spring still blooms,
The sun rays golden
And our ill fated fortune
And our youth stolen.

Yet spring still blooms,
How could it be?
Illness and death: as a sentence of doom
And looking beyond it is clear to see:

Yet spring still blooms.