i walk
each morning
through this
garden of
withered
grayed stalks
a wintry
reminder
death must
come before
rebirth

and we
are dying
with each
painful
breath

stuck in
this false
spring
where the
birds sing
of green
knowing
another
cold snap
is surely
coming

but i see
the facade
with forced
open eyes
and a heart
that tightens
with each
barometric
plummet as
i walk
alone each
morning in
a patch of
withered
gray stalks
daydreaming
of when the
colors danced
in a hazy
kaleidoscopic
whirl to
brighten my
monochromatic
view of dismay