You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye...."
It's the last day of February, and I'm going to have to say farewell. The sun is already rising earlier, setting later, and the silence of snow-covered mornings is broken by the call of the songbirds. March will enter like a lion or a lamb, ushering in spring's promises and busyness. I'm clinging desperately to the visages, refusing to let go.
"...I'll be the one if you want me to
Anywhere I would've followed you..."
I want to hang on to my peaceful self-absorption, and my season of introversion. I want my long-sleeves, hats and mittens. I want to watch my dog wallow in the snow with unadulterated joy. I want to feel my breath stolen by a cold wind desperate for some warmth. I want to see the moon glistening on the white blanket of my sleeping mother in the middle of the night. I want to quietly contemplate what it means to be me, and not feel obligated to do anything more than just that.
"And I...I'm feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all..."
But, it isn't going to last. I see the writing on the proverbial wall. My lover is leaving me. He'll say nothing as he departs. He lets Spring do the talking. I don't know if I'll have another opportunity to see Winter again. I whisper, "Say something, I'm giving up on you."
A crow caws in the distance.