For the first time today, while napping, I felt myself dying.
Not sick dying, just the passage of time, the slow death.
Time in it's truest fashion, slipping, slipping away.
Sometimes we wish it away, and sometimes it just sneaks away.
Sneaks away during a nap and you suddenly wake up and beg for it back.
Winter has stripped us down the the bone,
it has gone on just too long and we are sick of dreaming of warmth and bees and flower buds.
I know it serves its purpose; a reflection to be hopeful for rebirth.