Spring poem

It starts so small you hardly see it
Nothing to see, truly only you feel.
And once you feel it you can’t help but see it,
Is it seeing or feeling that makes it real?

Still, all at once it seems to the world outside,
That beyond the waiting something grows.
All the work you’ve been learning by your lonesome,
The reaching happens, the progress shows.

Oh, we can’t see it, we aren’t in there.
We can’t know your heart or your pain.
We can only see the exoskeleton and the petal
We don’t feel your sunshine, we don’t know your rain.

But it doesn’t mean you aren’t re-arranging.
All alone, in your heart’s glowing room,
So much waiting, it seems-no changing,
And then all at once, poof! You bloom!