What a dull day
Completely unworthy
Of a poem

Doesn't Spring arrive
At just the perfect time
Each year?
Just as the New Year-ness begins to wear out
And Old Thoughts begin to simmer?
When chapped winterlips and afternoon heat
Don't quite understand each other?
Doesn't Spring bloom and burst
Through a fast fading world ,
Bringing life back to Technicolor?

So when Spring arrives
I go to Her with childlike wonder
Bare hands and eyes still full of Winter.
And when I return,
Unable to carry
All her gifts,
I wear Her flowers in my hair
Leaves at my feet
Petals in my eyes
Color on my skin
And Love Love Love
Blooming
On every wall inside me.

A scribble
Is a doodle
In a hurry,
And to potter
In a panic
Is to scurry.

He was the pen and I was the paper.
And together we wrote the most beautiful love letter.

if only i could stitch
this family back with
a needle and thread