Sunday, April 18, 2010


Sprightly like a daffodil, swaying gently in the breeze.

Clean like the pale green buds on trees, ready to pounce into the world.

Fresh like the green grass, reawakened with sun and rain.

Pure like the air that rustles through my hair.

Signs of renewal and creeping and peeping though the vestige of winter.

I want to be like spring, where possibility, vitality, and beauty grow and reign inside me.

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