Hidden in forbidden slumber
under the slew of snow and ice.
Merely weeks away the day that Spring
appears we’ll cheer and revel
in celebration, joy will be unbridled
when it decides to come. One-by-one
the days pass, slow not fast
and each in question. Any mention
of flurries and freezing leaves me
cold. I’m getting to old for this.
These are the waitings in which
we’ve been partaking. There’s no
mistaking, Spring is taking
it’s sweet old time!

© Walter J. Wojtanik, 2015

Phoenix Rising Poetry Guild – The Reason For Rhyme: Different Strokes; Different Folks

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