Spring in the City, Spring in My Step
Who knew that something this messy
Could leave me feeling so clean?
And renewed.
And reborn.
Like the blossoming flowers
That line the dirty, grey sidewalk
This spring.
You're never looking for it when you see it.
Never searching for it when it finds you.
Or, rather, you're muddling in the
Complete
Wrong
Places.
And the places you thought were wrong, forbidden to muddle in,
End up being
So
Very
Right.
Instead of spending my time in dormant gardens,
Eagerly awaiting a flower to bloom,
I should have just gazed straight down
Whilst upon my slow, walking, journey,
To see one yearning to creep through a crevice in the concrete.
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Beautiful theatres, and beautiful shows, and perfect seats, and trying to keep my hands off you, and beautiful weather, and 5 or 6 stars, and holding my hand the right way, and a low-lit corner table in a beautiful restaurant, and a bottle of wine, and saying nothing with your mouth and everything with your eyes, and closing the place down, and trying to keep my hands off you, and uptown hotels, and rising in elevators, and falling in bed, and not keeping my hands off you, and soft sheets, and soft hair, and soft lighting when you get up to go to the bathroom, and the warmth of your arms around me, and breakfast in bed, and subway rides back to blah, and counting the seconds till we can steal away again.
Could leave me feeling so clean?
And renewed.
And reborn.
Like the blossoming flowers
That line the dirty, grey sidewalk
This spring.
You're never looking for it when you see it.
Never searching for it when it finds you.
Or, rather, you're muddling in the
Complete
Wrong
Places.
And the places you thought were wrong, forbidden to muddle in,
End up being
So
Very
Right.
Instead of spending my time in dormant gardens,
Eagerly awaiting a flower to bloom,
I should have just gazed straight down
Whilst upon my slow, walking, journey,
To see one yearning to creep through a crevice in the concrete.
---------------------------------------------------------------------
Beautiful theatres, and beautiful shows, and perfect seats, and trying to keep my hands off you, and beautiful weather, and 5 or 6 stars, and holding my hand the right way, and a low-lit corner table in a beautiful restaurant, and a bottle of wine, and saying nothing with your mouth and everything with your eyes, and closing the place down, and trying to keep my hands off you, and uptown hotels, and rising in elevators, and falling in bed, and not keeping my hands off you, and soft sheets, and soft hair, and soft lighting when you get up to go to the bathroom, and the warmth of your arms around me, and breakfast in bed, and subway rides back to blah, and counting the seconds till we can steal away again.