Suspense

_{It is a wonderfully suspenseful thing
to sit and wait for Spring
where I am.
It's one of those days
when you turn up your face
to the sun, like a flower,
and long to take off your coat.
The air is cold, although
the sky is free of clouds
and very, very blue.
I'm not sure if these days
have a name;
the kind when, through the window panes,
it seems to be
Spring already.
Like an illusion or a dream,
only not.}



This is for Spring, whom I miss quite dearly.
The truth is that I cannot stand the intense hot and muggy climate of Summer. I love roses and swimming pools and ice cream but I CANNOT enjoy having my own sweat re-condense on me. Ew.