Spring
I’m unprepared for spring each time
It comes, always abruptly
My plans are dying on the vine
I can’t detail them aptly
I take the clumsiest of ways
Procrastinate and ponder
Why there’s no goal for me to chase
The more I sit and wonder
The less of sense comes out of this
And you can’t be around
To reassure me with a kiss
That it’s just spring abound.
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