The sheets are melting.
They hung outside,
Clinging to anything they could,
Rooftops, signposts, streetcars.
They cry tears of life,
Nourishing dirt patches,
Where the flowerbeds will go.
The sun shines early now,
Allowing the moon to rest.
Stars no longer linger in the morning sky.
Buds wake up,
You can catch a glimpse of them,
Pregnant branches on trees.
The grass plays peek-a-boo
With pillows of snow.
Its time for revival.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 2:44 PM UTC
The sheets are melting.
They hung outside,
Clinging to anything they could,
Rooftops, signposts, streetcars.
They cry tears of life,
Nourishing dirt patches,
Where the flowerbeds will go.
The sun shines early now,
Allowing the moon to rest.
Stars no longer linger in the morning sky.
Buds wake up,
You can catch a glimpse of them,
Pregnant branches on trees.
The grass plays peek-a-boo
With pillows of snow.
Its time for revival.
