Awaiting Spring

February 15, 2008
By Charity Hand, Lake Staion, IN

The change is not coming quickly,
The snow is still on the ground,
The trees and birds look sickly.
My soul, to winter, is bound.
I long for the sweet smell of flowers,
the wind blowing in my face,
And the trees shining like green towers.
The sun giving a warm embrace.
But yet the snow is still around,
Cold and wet sinking in my bones,
And the wind is the only sound.
I can feel the world moan.
When well this end?
In this horrible place,
I know spring will mend
The depression with love and grace.
Spring will come soon,
To see this weary winter depart.
To heal this wound
In my heavy laden heart!


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