history repeats itself, my friend,
a lesson I've learned time and time again
that mistakes we make will always come back to haunt us

and things we've left unsaid will always scream out
to taunt us.

by and by the wind she tries to sway my fragile
addled mind. and the trees will follow suit for she
(the wind) is one to be reckoned with.

seasons may change,
winter to spring
as the snow melts, 'twill prompt the birds to sing.

and right on time, the warm southern breeze,
carrying a scent of chamomile and

petrichor through the city
so serene.

and how things have changed,
how different
this next year will be.

I'll run through the forest through fields and sunshine
to the lake so cold, and rush in
to escape time.

the inevitable following, silent ghost
the one true thing that scares me the most

is that this is all in the past,
all a dream
all memories
just waiting to be made.

*history repeats itself,
if not now
one day.