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Description
Is Spring but a budding flower? Is it a ray of light?
Is it the moon hanging high, shining over the crystal lake at night?
What about honeysuckle sweet?
A white tailed doe, walking slow, with a subtle, lethargic hearbeat?
Scent of daisies, silk lined petals.
Soft, rich earth on which I settle.
Fields of green, beautiful, pristine.
The sun hitting my arms, I relish the charm.
Breeze flowing free, and then consuming me.
Or might it be the crisp air that I breathe?
Life is hard, but I always forget as I look towards the sky and push away all regret.
With springtime here I feel no more fear.
I remember that when it comes to bliss, this is as close as one can get.

Description
Is Spring but a budding flower? Is it a ray of light?
Is it the moon hanging high, shining over the crystal lake at night?
What about honeysuckle sweet?
A white tailed doe, walking slow, with a subtle, lethargic hearbeat?
Scent of daisies, silk lined petals.
Soft, rich earth on which I settle.
Fields of green, beautiful, pristine.
The sun hitting my arms, I relish the charm.
Breeze flowing free, and then consuming me.
Or might it be the crisp air that I breathe?
Life is hard, but I always forget as I look towards the sky and push away all regret.
With springtime here I feel no more fear.
I remember that when it comes to bliss, this is as close as one can get.