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Rated: E · Poetry · None · #1641689
It's the first nice day and all she wants to do is clean.
Winter is using his last breath.
Dark days had spread across skies
balloon skin thin and transparent
inside sunshine wanting to burst,
and the thought of it so light
it almost carries you away.
You wait… and then it comes quick, so
elated, that last stretching push,
it’s like watching a flower that
opens so fast that it breaks the seams
and the sheer energy of it
sends wind like long fingers that curve
grabbing at tree trunks like handles
sending branches back and forth
treetops sweeping cold out like dust.
From our filmy bedroom window
where we have spent the last four months,
the edict of sunshine blaring,
the leaves and buds ensuing,
birds singing their spring time songs,
and through all this you begin to speak
of this thing called spring cleaning.
It’s you and I who are dirty,
the wet breath of winter soaked in.
Let’s go out into the sunlight
play in its warmth and sweat it out
The rays are filled with vitamin,
sunshine is the cleanser for soul.
Come, let us not go and waste it.
It would be like filling balloons
and never tying up the ends
then just simply walking away
as your letting everything go.

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