Spring.

I remember now.
So foundly.
Like the way wet grass feels in the summer.
Despite the weather
The rain that comes
The snow that goes.
The way the mushy earth feels.
I always look forward to sping.
As it reminds me to be reborn.
To try again,
To prevail,
And to turn another page.
Start, maybe.
Perhaps the worst is behind us.
Maybe it's not.
But soon,
That same brisk night will meet us again.
They will put on more layers.
Rush home at night.
They will moan about how muggy it is.
How they don't sleep right at night.
But tell me one thing...
When that seasons change
Can we remain the same?