Spring time. I should be writing a poem,
I imagine it’s some sort of release
My feelings. It seems like I could show ’em
So I sit on a park bench in my fleece
Winter, is it just numbness? A lack of
Energy? But that is hyperbole
So I lift my eyes to You, high above
So long have my eyes been focused on me
I am obdurate, chewing on this bit
That leads me to You and I mistake it
The breeze blows on me
Have I done enough?
A question: have you ever looked at geese?
I should, I would, I could but for this snare
So I sit on a park bench in my fleece
While the wind, it’s soft song, blows through my hair
Suddenly I realize I dissemble
Is this so big as it seems? Dissonance
Dissuasion, decadence does resemble
Those dark, gloomy moments of recompense
Needless
To
Say
It is in vain
And I thank You for Your grace, what You bear
And bore, the pain
While the wind, it’s soft song, blows through my hair
This day I do not seize but I will not
Waste it, I say in haste. There’s a firm crease
Wrinkling my heart. Please, Lord heal this rot
So I sit on a park bench in my fleece
While the wind, it’s soft song, blows through my hair
And I wonder when
I wonder when
I will see the geese
I will glorify You
I will stop disappointing myself
It is in vain
And I thank You for Your grace, what You bear
And bore, the pain
While the wind, it’s soft song, blows through my hair
So now it is spring
The geese softly sing
And I awake
And I wonder if it is not all hyperbole