Spring.  stories
  •   1 comment

Autoplay OFF  •  2 years ago
A gay poem about my favorite season


by sadboys

Teacups balanced on old books with leather covers, dusted windowsills and oil burning lamps, Spring was all dresses and delicacy.

his kisses left freckles on bridges of noses and he had a large concern for the safety of daises.

He was the kind to sit and talk with the trees about his various adventures, never expecting them to reply but making sure to give them time to.

He was nothing more than a gentle breeze across bunny noses, his soft brown curls a mess on his head but his smile was bright enough to resurrect dying flowers.

His laughter combed through the trees leaves as they danced along with him

he was kept lonely but never alone as he laid under the stars and referred to each and every one of them by their names.

He was joy and life and happiness. And he was Spring.

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