it's a cold and bitter day, the
thermometer reading 25, but the
reality reading something much lower.
there is no snow, just the sun-
but the wind is excruciating,
and it's exaggeration is all i need to
understand that this is not a summers day.

oh, how i long for the friendly breeze;
the one where the wind doesnt whistle through the trees;
but rather, humming sweet, soft melodies,
and explains the details that no one sees.

yet this is no reprieve, this is a
brutal emotion that can not be stated;
rather, only experienced by the most seasoned
of people, acclimated to the most treacherous
season of them all; a cause and effect relationship
where the answer is only the question shot back,
and the root of the matter is always far simpler than
you ever hoped it would be. this is a dream,
windblown and torn through the trees.

oh, how i wish for the summer sun
the rays of light cast upon everyone;
where, when the season is done,
there is a sense of color, and none is alone.

02/28/2004

Posted on 02/28/2004
Copyright © 2025 Andrew S Adams