this winter has grown old
it’s tired and gray with last years snow
weighed down, drowned out
spring waits to begin the show.
hands and tires slide where they can’t tread
bodies and cars collide leaving victims and the air cold and dead
and here we wait
thinking – not saying what needs to be said.
as the breath leaves our lungs
forming clouds of wasted chances
it condenses and falls
with our hearts
our warmth
and the promise of new romance.

I’ve held back – bitten my tongue
held my breath until all I could taste was blood
and I’ve stood shivering at the thought
that it would only be said
that it would never be done.
You seem as uncertain as March
when seasons battle for the right to hold sway
your eyes fight hard to keep the secrets you don’t want to give away
but as sure at the Sun’s return
I stand ready to fight off Fall
to keep the heat of Summer, of you
for just one more day.

- Jared