Spring
I long for that first warm enough day,
warm enough I can roll
the windows down
and let the wind charge me,
lift me into a dance.
Hair flying everywhere,
screeching to distorted music,
breathing deep like in a great run
between the oak and cedar,
not passing nearby at sixty five.
I will feel again, Alive.
Sexy-
Crazy-
a balloon running from a pin,
playing chicken with the sun.
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