There is something to be said
about the warm days of spring
that have been given to me
year after year.
Surely I am not deserving of
such wonderous gifts,
the smokey dandelions,
the engaging breeze,
the still
quiet
midday
universes
of exploration.
What have I given these days
that has them coming back
for more?
I have been selfish and unaware
and I have forgotten what
beauty is. I have forgotten
what magic is. But I will not
forget again.
I will embrace each day as if
it were my last, and I will always
be begging for more.