In the Springtime

I smell the cold, deadness of winter,

The bark on trees starts to splinter,

But I know deep inside my heart,

That in the springtime life will start.

The breeze through the trees, the wind in my hair,

I dream deeply of a place where,

I will never again feel the coldness,

A place where I couldn’t care less.

The flowers will bloom bringing colour,

To this dark world, devoid of valour,

The birds singing gaily without warning,

Of the rage that is secretly storming.

The meadows are full of bright green,

Where baby creatures wean,

Off their mothers,

Feeding hungrily, like many others.

Cloudless skies loom over us,

Over a place where we must,

Guard carefully and listen,

To the new life, arisen.

I smile over the beautiful blessings,

Of a God long forgotten resting,

I’m sad for a moment, lost,

In a memory different than most.

But secretly, in my heart of hearts, I know,

That in the springtime, soft winds will blow.

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