Where is spring?
Sunset holds the breath,
Where are days watching light orbit earth?
Gone the orb, the cusp of heartbreak.
Positivity clawing from black,
An impossibility it’s true,
Like thoughtful meat.
One hundred million degrees below freezing,
And Natasha buttoning up her eyes,
Bubbling oil heats the cell of cosy,
As the pull of the future helps cavernous walnuts snap into another rise;
As routine marsupials splash with vigor,
Running like cats away from litter.
Winter pallet shifts a tone lighter and lighter and lighter and เบา
Ascending with a drum roll.
A gift of it to that,
Haunted all the way,