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Poem

Ghostly clouds wrap icy fingers 
around the last of Winters days. 
I stare at them amused, 
then continue on my way. 
It hadn't crossed my mind, 
Spring was late to start. 
And had yet to notice, 
icicles hung from trees like art.
 
I stood there in amusement. 
Wondering how long it had been, 
since I took time to take a stroll 
but could not remember when.
While the chill nipped at my thoughts 
and no warmth for solace, 
I came upon a Springtime dream, 
a tree of beauty flawless.

I've never been privy, 
to beauty so pronounced. 
So, I crept upon her quietly. 
Making sure to be unannounced. 
She stood magnificent, 
without a hint of spoilage. 
While other trees around were barren, 
she was full of foliage.
 
So I sat and I pondered, 
then I pondered and sat. 
How could it be this, 
how could it be that? 
Immersed in my surroundings 
a crowd gathered round. 
They gathered as a whisper, 
without so much as a sound.
 
Amidst the awe and spectacle,
my eyes fell toward the ground. 
Among the roots had sprouted 
a flower…so profound. 
A pretty little thing,
of colors blue and gold. 
It made me feel young once more 
having felt so very old.
 
The morning turned to afternoon, 
soon the evening came. 
With it were some thunderstorms, 
then softly falling rain. 
As darkness fell upon me, 
I had to make my way. 
And to the people gathered, 
I bid them all "good day".
 
Tonight, when I lay down 
but before I close my eyes. 
When finally, the voice 
of the coffee shop poet dies. 
As darkness fills the void 
daytime calls blue skies. 
Let me think in metaphor 
of the hours that had passed. 
And pray to any God listening, 
let this day not be my last.

-JJR 3/20/16

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