So I logged onto my old Xanga site. Remember Xanga? Anyway, I had a lot of old poems, thoughts etc. It was so funny and insightful to look into the mind of me, from even 5 years ago. It's funny how much life has changed, how much I have changed. What I wanted, what I thought life would be etc.
It's funny how much I haven't changed. How the little things that make us who we are never change.
I found this poem that seemed appropriate for the season.
Some time ago,
spring was to come,
As it always does at this time,
with its new wet warmth,
and the sun on my winter-worn face.
I anticipated and expected its newness to come,
and my soul even stirred at the thought of it.
But winter, having worn out its welcome,
stays a little longer,
lingering and hovering with its bitter cold,
old and worn out like some dirty rag.
Stale and stagnant like so much old coffee,
that has long since lost its flavor.
It's weird to post old poetry. It's like a love-hate relationship. I always think it's great when I first write it. A year removed though....usually I think it's awful, like I tried to hard or something (I really think I did for this one...really.) At the same time, it's endearing, like an old baby picture, or growth chart, or a scrap book or something. It shows me who I used to be and who I am now. At least I know that winter, although it's grown on me, was never really my favorite. Who knows?
Happy winter everyone!
Image credits: www.xanga.com and http://sustainabledesignupdate.com