PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My old friend Spring is in the air
dancing on the woodland breeze
with the scent of flowers fair
greening buds on all the trees.

He's a friend who's never strayed,
no other breeze could say the same.
He's a friend who's not afraid
to touch my face and speak my name.

He shares his secrets in a song
as he whispers through the leaves.
He says I'm here where I belong
where river through green forest weaves.

"Forsake the ways of strife and throng,
stay here with me by my blue stream."
His spell is sweet, his magic strong;
my other life is but a dream.

I know his song is just a gust,
it blows this way and then the next.
Yet still I crave the wanderlust
with which it fills my yearning breast.