surging into the air while it's still cold.
But bold bravery is beautiful.
you could call them.
But have they no fear?
Your two lips brush my skin
light as flower petals
on a warm breeze.
I am bold, beautiful...
But I wonder --
How will I fare in the cold spring rain?
I wrote this poem ages ago, and found it recently. It isn't exactly relevant to my life anymore, and it's rather silly, but I still like it anyway.
I find it healthy to revisit old writing sometimes. It reminds us of where we've been, and makes us think of where we're going. Rereading leaves me absolutely brimming with hope: looking forward to all the brilliant possibilities.