The archetype of yesterday frozen on the edge of the balcony -
winter’s frosted memory dandered in the left over snow.
The sun chips away at winter’s handiwork,
thawing out the shadows.
Spring has always been a muddy thing -
churned up grit and dirt.
Spring thrives in browns and yellows
long before she puts on her make up.
Or he puts on his make up.
Spring already fading cold dark days.
Winter slips into the past passed
all those frozen dreams now thawing.
I fall in love with these moments
when the brassy noise of sunrise
promises a new day. Hope lives here.
Possibility lives here, and here I am
hoping on my balcony for the sheer bliss
when spring has sprung
and winter has become the memory.
march 3rd 2018. a.r.morgan
winter’s frosted memory dandered in the left over snow.
The sun chips away at winter’s handiwork,
thawing out the shadows.
Spring has always been a muddy thing -
churned up grit and dirt.
Spring thrives in browns and yellows
long before she puts on her make up.
Or he puts on his make up.
Spring already fading cold dark days.
Winter slips into the past passed
all those frozen dreams now thawing.
I fall in love with these moments
when the brassy noise of sunrise
promises a new day. Hope lives here.
Possibility lives here, and here I am
hoping on my balcony for the sheer bliss
when spring has sprung
and winter has become the memory.
march 3rd 2018. a.r.morgan
