Since spring is back,
Maybe you will think of me,
In your burning lack,
Maybe you will think how ambitious love
Once made you and I
The slippery duck and the misty dove,
When love happened and we didn’t know why.
Each green morning was warm
And for three springs you leaned on my arm.
The weird warm February when it all began
Was as warm as spring, in love’s plan.
You loved gardening because the new,
And also the parting, appealed to you.
This was a metaphor which frightened me—
Attached to you, sad and greedy.
Did I love? Yes. But did I learn?
I wonder if you will burn
As you once burned
For me, even when it was wintry.
But anyone will do.
Life is trillions. It doesn’t have to be you.
Spring has returned.