Outside, I can see you though my window.
You're taunting me with your sunshine, setting me up for the next disappointment with your secret plan for rain or snow, or rain mixed with snow, or sleet mixed with freezing rain and snow.
I watch you, Outside. Furtively, like a stalker. Someday I will possess you, and I will make you love me as I love you. I will make you yearn for my lawn mower, for my sack of bulbs and my spade.
Soon, my beloved Outside...soon. Punxsutawney Phil says six more weeks until we can be together, and then I will hold you tightly to my bosom until you are lost to me again in November.
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2 comments:
So this is what cabin fever sounds like in prose.
This is exactly what cabin fever sounds like. Luckily, you can'r see what it LOOKS like. It's sort of pathetic.
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