Dead of Spring

Dead of Spring
Like the passionless spring,
Still failing to banish the winter snow that threatens April with its shivers,
I sit here watching the world go by:
Moment by moment
Snow flake by snow flake
Falling on the rooftops of abandoned houses
Melting away like so much of what remains unrealized.

As the world passes me by
Time no longer seems the joy born of the boundless unfolding of the present
In an infinite variety of forms waiting to be explored.

As the world passes me by
Time is the fire in which I now burn
Every second thrown into the flames
Every moment, a moment I did not capture.

Like this passionless spring,
Still hesitant to dip its warm toes into the cold winter air.
I sit and watch the city pulse
Each face a snowflake melting into the crowd
Each a drop of water
Secretly waiting for the spring to feed them to the flowers waiting to bloom
Each unconsciously yearning for the sun to break the frost
Each drifting by on winds through which I do not travel
All of us waiting for something that we can’t identify and that has not come…