i remember the scent of spring
and almost immediately
there is a sharp pang
nostalgia.

spring
doesn't stay long though
only long enough, to kiss the world
with flower lips
after winter is done crying upon her shoulders
she bids her goodbye,
relieving her of her harsh tantrums
and ice encasing human lives
and gently she brings her warmth
a little at first then all at once
as she passes it to summer.
spring doesn't stay long,
before you know it she's passed
along to summer
depression to kindness
kindness to fire
her memory will live on, however
during times of
ice and depression
heat and fire