Love smells like early spring
the spirit struggling free from
wintry defamations. A cheerful
time laid up in store. A wordy
declamation of an intent heaven
sent to begin again, again.
The ticking of the clock
replaced by the shady shadows
of the trees saying: “It is time
for the trees to be adorned in fresh, green
leaves.” We are here such a short time.
Seasons come and go but love shows
her scattered finery to best advantage
in these fleeting days of early spring.

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