Member-only story
poetry
I no longer care for spring
It’s not my thing
Ever since we met in the pouring rain
It’s no longer my thing, spring
I can await the winter or fall
Meet you before — the dead of summer,
Better be the autumn pall
Or under some big old tree
Across the sleet and snow
I don’t know…wherever one shall roam
But I’ll await you in the wings
Hijack’d when the spring sets in
But it need not be spring O so sweet
It could be a season unbeknownst t’ greet
Where clouds gather over the sunny morn
No, I’ll take the surety of that looming storm
I care not, be it night or dawn
But I no longer care for spring
It’s now beneath the rain that hope sets in
Cleansed by its healing path
I could drown in spring
And risk its joy and risk its sin
Be only compared to love’s kaching
Alas, I await the darkened skies
The delight of spring now despised
Her beauty and her untutored guise
I’ll meet you in the pouring rain
‘Neath her teeming sheets of rust and pain
