Spring Is A Time Of Mud And Sadness

I long for the winter. The soft
Alabaster blanket that buried
The cities scars. Let one sleep
Like a child, secure and warm
Bundled within a mothers arms.

A serenity lies unspoken
In a chill night’s air.
A fragility that haunts
Windy eyes, Which for a
Majestic moment, seems
to brush away our desires
With the sky’s frozen tears.

But as beauty fades with age,
Innocence recedes with the
Seasons. And soft white skin
Gives way to hard pavement,
Cracked an gray and sad.

There are no flowers yet,
And some days I doubt
They will ever come.
All before me stretches
Of concrete and refuse
Seas. Broken but hopeful
Lies and Nature’s refugees.

I long for the winter, and
A good night’s sleep. A mask
To cover the mess we’ve made
Of everything. To me, there is
No beauty, only sadness, in spring.