See The Spring! Poem by Amer Jag

See, it's not that I don't admire your beautiful eyes.
Indeed, I do. Often and much more than you think.
It's not that I don't look in the newborn night's sky
as the last one I will ever see.
Why? Well that's the question I hate the most.

While the fragrance of old cigarette fills the space around me,
I see spring,
all over the place, birth is taking its own.
How can I think about anything else in this moment,
I wonder… than you,
when you are the birth of my happiness,
and my often sorrow.