Sunday, March 2, 2014

yet another untitled.

I can't imagine living
Where the seasons are the same;
My life would be so bitter
If I never had the change.
There's lightness in the snow that falls
And joy within the rain,
And a summer night is nothing short
Of healing spring's faint pain.

Each season gives a rinse, a dry,
To the way in which I'm seen:
Like a Sunday afternoon where
My spirit comes out clean.
I can't imagine living with
No sustenance, no change;
Where I am stuck with who I was
Before the water came.