“To be interested in the changing seasons is … a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring.” ~ George Santayana
Spring knocked on my door this morning,
all dressed in pink, babbling about the daffodils.
She’d cut her hair short over the winter.
Still pale as a snowdrift, we collected mushrooms,
without our jackets and I felt like a blossom,
opening to the warming sun, wet with naiveté.
We slept windows open, so I’m sure my neighbors heard
but we didn’t care since the trees were doing it too.
I can’t help but fall in love again, like I do every year,
even though I know she’ll be leaving soon,
all too soon.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
Beautifully written Bartholomew! 😊
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Thank you, Gypsie. I was inspired by the season.
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You are most welcome. Although we had sleet here today with wind which made it very, very cold!! 🥶
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now that is how you write romance
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True romance requires a premature end. If she hung around ’til winter, I’d be sick of her.
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100 percent disagree. it may be true for a twice divorced curmudgeon but romance can and does endures for a lifetime.
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Or she might get sick of you….when she grew up.
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That’s what usually happens.
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A jaunty pop up poem. With a vivid vernal bounciness. Green shoots indeed. Enjoyed much.
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Many thanks, sir! Hope she gets to your neck of the woods soon.
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So sweeeet.
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Thanks. The best sweets are temporary.
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I love the metaphors. 💚
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Thank you, CB!
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Beautiful!
Happy first day of Spring! ❤️🌸
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And Happy World Poetry Day!
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🌸🪷🌸
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Beautifully expressed!
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Thank you, Dawn!
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