Feel the fat rotation of the planet throwing a little spring our way to poke our amygdala and rattle our dormancy
and sure, we know at the back of minds a bare faced bait and switch is in play which means our twitching fingers will seek to put the big coats in the loft only with dismay to find the grey frost return to bite our ***** mid-March
but we can dream and show some ankle can’t we?
We hold out for this spring harder than a man who’s lost nine digits to frostbite so we can point to where it hurts, be heard, aware that we’re linked, a swarm of warmer hands that need to hold, to cling, to brace against this lingering, malingering pain
We’re ready to emerge, but only together and while inclement, duplicitous weather still rages we’re better, sadly, caved
And then I open my eyes yet another misty morning, half a year has passed by but my heart is still yearning, with the passing of each night there's always a fairytale dream, never will it make me vulnerable even the bravest yearn, silently we all make a wish to the moonbeam for nothing's ever enough. It's hard to put into words a dream that doesn't change, just that it's always a different place yet a part of it tends to stay, from your tiny black eyelash to the enormous warmth of your being, in the thick of it all is me standing there looking at you what else can I say, And then I open my eyes yet another misty morning, half a year has passed by but my heart is still yearning.
And then you woke up, you felt the soft drip of sweat on your furrowed brow. Trailing down your face in thin streams. Your clothes were soaked, and your bed lay damp. Your breathing was heavy as your forlorn gaze drifted off into the night sky.
And then you woke up, you felt the fright from a previous dream cling to your mind, dulling your senses. Cloaking your ears from all previous sounds that might’ve existed. Your hands lay there trembling, uncontrollable in every way, messy hair in all directions.
And as you lay there breathing, you woke up. The erratic thumping of your heart, beating loud into the night. A soft wail from your mouth, encircling the terrible symphony of despair. Grating thoughts, that never seem to go away. It won’t stop, it won't go away . . .
It is fascinating to listen to the world wake up in the morning. It’s as though everything is still and frozen in time that even the birds are hesitant to start their morning songs. But then suddenly, as the first stretch of daylight crawls across the lines and rows of rooftop houses, you can hear the whole Earth start up in stages. First the signaling of the distant trains, their own morning song in a way I suppose. Then the rest of the neighborhood follows suit in a chorus. Car engines rattle on to melt the ice off their windshields and they too, groan and moan not yet ready for the daily grind. I picture people sipping their coffee while their kids quickly and hastily brush their teeth to make it to school on time. The buses stagger in lines to greet them at their doorsteps. One by one the birds unruffle their feathers in the treetops and begin to rise in song. The streets that just lay undisturbed moments ago, pristine with a thin layer of 4AM dew, are now bustling with car exhaust and scurrying street cats who are simply trying to get out of the way. And you in the midst of your tossing and turning murmur something in your sleep and I wish I could lie here forever.