Winter is dying once more,
Corpses of ice on the floor,
This wind knows death,
Yet it will blow anyway,
As the broom of the season,
Brushes it away.

The clouds swim across the sky,
Like swirling droplets of dye,
Now that there's nothing left to mourn,
Slowly the world is reborn.

The evenings blossom in pink,
Soon it will be spring,
Washing away,
Todays shoreline,
The sky is an ocean,
The breeze is its tide.

Comments appreciated as always.
Last edited by facemelt365 at Jul 21, 2011,