It is always possible to grow,
even after you have assumed
everything has died,
the promise of spring
held out
, yet still denied,
a slow, mournful stroll through
the dismal landscape life becomes
in the dead of winter.
Spring always follows,
yet not always as soon as we need,
sometimes a false
spring,
like a false dawn,
raising unrealistic hopes,
stirring up wishes
that may never become real.
After so long out in the cold,
you’d think you’d be
stronger,
the passion of youth
sustaining you
even as youth fades,
the Disney tale
expressed as fraud
when Toto pulls back the curtain
to show just how the
world really works,
all those ugly gears
grinding.
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