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Spring`s first breath arrives early this year,drifts through open windows of desire. Warm air fuels our dreams of winter`s death. Song birds sing outside my window songs of spring birthing on the horizon. Tiny buds pushing through slowly thawing ground, like tiny rays of hope slipping through the cracks of a broken heart. Each new year takes me farther away from the day you left this realm, like the melting ice slowly disappears from the river`s edge Learning to bloom again each spring as the shadows of winter`s pain fade into the dusk. And still I miss you. struggling to grasp the memories of when you felt so close even after your death. The floods of tears slowly turn to drought, wondering if I will ever fully be alive again.

Simple pleasures in life can be found just outside my window, so many different kinds of woodpeckers, chickadees, cardinals and blue jays gather in turn to partake of the last of the winters feed. Soon the dance of love will begin, the building of the birthing nest, looking for the perfect blade of grass or maybe a random string to impress their mate. So much like them we are; searching for the perfect spring dress, or shade of eye shadow or scent of perfume just to impress our mate.

The labor pains have begun and the birth of spring is just around the corner.

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