Spring

Time for mattresses to turn
For leaves to fall and pick themselves up again
The dust collects
In the far corners of the closet
Where my secrets are kept
Little blossoms
Hiding from the cold
Covering itself with red
and begins to unfold
You brush off the water damaged boots
Hoping they look brand new
Too many fingerless gloves
Too many black scarves
Chirpping brings you back to your thoughts
It’s almost time
To pick yourself up again
Dust yourself off
Buy some new boots
and repair your gloves
This is spring
and it’s everything to me

This poem is about: 
Me
Our world

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