A Distant Memory
Winter is gone now. No more fallen snow. No more mittens, hats, or cold, wet shoes. Winter is but a distant memory. Spring has taken her place among the seasons of time. It's her turn now. Old man winter, be off. Spring has moved in, your time has gone.
The buds have broken, the skies are no longer dark, and the cold is not fresh on our minds. The hot chocolate stashed, boots slowly packed into the back of the closet. Leaves and flowers come now where there was once barren shades of white and grey.
This fence would now hold back a field of flowers, keeping it boxed and safe for summer to pick up and carry away.
Text by: Carol Schiraldi
Photo by: Timothy Neesam