Distant Spring

I need a Springtime.

I need to feel young.

Iíve written from

the depths of despair.

I want to write from

a hill in the sun.

A fresh wind would blow.

A blue sky would show

secret grassy places where

as a child I would go.

My Winter is so long.

My sky too often gray.

My words fall

with the cold tears.

My words of Springtime

seem too far away.