Spring is dead

You’re away, there’s barely a flower anywhere

The birds are as unhappy as the chaotic air,

Spring is dead.

No hothouse can resurrect us dead, our bones

Buried in Descartes artificial, android head,

Spring is dead.

To be in your presence, fill me like air, so many

Facets you hold, jewelled dear, and I alone, here,

Spring is dead.

So many factors come to bear on our heads, anyone

Who’s ever asked why? has died, so who knows why

Spring is dead.

We were born to the seasons, you and I, that begin

In spring, and now the seasons won’t begin again,

Spring is dead.

And my only thought lingers beside you, on

Earth, or anywhere, rocking there, hold me, g, for

Spring has died.