There never was a Spring as cold as this one.

April showers left you cold and teetering

on the brink of jealousy.

You envy things like the wind

that are free to move as they please.

In the dark of dimmed fluorescent lights

your window taunts your fantasies;

tree tops reach towards the grayest of clouds.

If only your hands could reach that high,

but they'd likely freeze.

You nest by-gones and linger on loves long past,

keep you passions to yourself, dear child,

lest someone take it from you.

Close you notebooks decorated in euphoria,

and turn down the blinds to cover the windows

to keep yourself from dreaming up such loneliness

and falling out when you try to fly.