We seem to reminisce,
In appreciation...
That which was 'had'.
Much more,
Than when the having of it...
Had been firmly in our grasp.
And a wasting of our lives and time,
Given to us as it is witnessed...
Is spent wishing for those days,
When given the opportunity...
To live them at our best to enjoy,
Is procrastinated for a wanting...
To return to a past had to again live.
And nothing will convince,
That a Spring cleaning planned...
Does not have to wait to be scheduled,
When that Spring has sprung to begin.
'What on Earth are you talking about? '
Those days when I use to wish for Summer.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem