The Warmth

I feel the warmth of

the sun on my face

as it rises in the Spring –

It is Hope.

Like the green shoot of a daffodil

reaching through the snow –

That flower ain’t got no sense

It just knows it’s time.

Time for a change.

So I could curl up in the snow

and let the hypothermia take me,

Content in the illusory warmth

of my own delusion

Or I can throw off the confusion

that sets in when all else fails

and raise my eyes to the Sun.

Can’t I see it’s time.

Time for a change

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