# data[].attributes.body
I will not miss the harsh white winds
The bare trees
The biting cold on my skin
I sit in wait for the green ivy walls
The flowers emerging
The dandelions in the lawn

# data[].attributes.body
Dogwood Flowers

We’re driving fast

or at least it feels fast, because of the wind.

It blows my hair into my burning eyes.

You’re the first day of spring at the creek,

spring air always reminded me of you,

the innocence in the air and the green of the plants.

So does the taste of coffee,

that bittersweet taste,

similar to adventure and self doubt,

The creek is a muddy brown,

that we can see our reflections in,

you like to think that's how others see us.

Warped and forever changing.

I think it might be the other way around.

Spring is a warning for the malignant summer,

summer is when mistakes our made,

We must hurry and meet our lovers before then.

So our love will be pure like spring, and not smothering like summer.

True love can only be found before the dogwood flowers die.

We know this, but it never stops us from getting caught up in summer riptides

# data[].attributes.body
Waiting
Wishing your life away
When spring is seen
As not but a prelude to dreams

Waiting
Yet when it’s seen
Spring blossoms into view
As something more
Then what you see it

Waiting
For something breathtaking
Yet is’s already there

# data[].attributes.body
The garden sits empty
Laying in wait
For frosts to thaw out,
For a new slate