I sit here wondering when it will come?
Hoping I don't miss the explosion of color,
Once this ice and snow melts
Again, we are wearing Mother Nature White.
Fashionable, perhaps.
Seasonal, perhaps.
Wanted, I speak for myself. No.
Mother Nature has once again, handed me her hand me down whites.
Blustery, chilly, ice, snow, freezing rain,
Words I have become to hate and shiver as if hypnotized to do so
Where is the sun? Can't it tease us with a showing?
Of course not with all of this snow blowing.
With one hand, my coffee to warm my palm and fingers,
I type words that soon will be gone from everyone's vocabulary
Hopefully I will feel the sun's loving rays
and soon feel like I have been reborn
Wysteria
