Maybe I was wrong to think they were vacant.
Maybe I’m wrong to stay in this random space, not growing just continuing on going.
I’m getting sick and tired of doing the same thing over and over.
There’s beauty in the soggy woods, flowers dripping with rain soaked petals and grassy fields swaying as one body in the chill.
It’s spring but in a more distant way than the last few before her.
At least she’s holding true to her nature.
Her April showers will certainly bring May flowers.
Maybe I was wrong.