I take in a lungful of your blooming skies and sunny flowers, and immediately sneeze. The hay-fever you've taught my body has gotten better at clogging the senses and dulling the nasal passages. I feel disheveled with you, and disjointed within. Your warmth sparks a fresh fervor within my brittle bones, and I shamefully yearn for respite.
Since your last visit, it's been a rough time. Family has become laborious, and work troublesome. Too much of my own time and energy has gone into situations better avoided. And I'm old enough now to understand that a day is finite, that there's only so much of myself I can offer before I am exhausted. It frustrates me that years into my life, I'm still weighed down by maintaining what I have instead of chasing what I could be. Like a tree that clings to a cliff-face for so long and has forgotten how to blossom, I wonder if I've survived long enough to forget how to live.
But hey, you're here now, heralding the new blossoms which are pretty and reassuring. What is new is neither good nor bad until reframed in the context of one's life. And through inflamed and watery eyes, I gaze once more as petals fall.
Photo Credit: What is Hay Fever?
BGM: "Undercover Martyn" by Two Door Cinema Club
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