Spring

Spring is in the air
I'm told that's supposed to mean
Lovers, rebirth, flowers,
Cerulean skies, leaves freshly green

But lovers, life, pretty flowers
mean so very little to me
They're hardly more than echoes
of long departed dreams

Those fantasies have flown,
(Were they ever really mine?)
Lost amid the wreckage
of a poorly executed life

Who else is to blame
but the ghost there in the mirror?
The choices made and missed
must lead to now - to here.

And sadly here I sit,
watching seconds tick away
Motionless on an island
Wasted life, wasted days

I'm alive, I exist - I AM!
But what good is this to me?
I've lost the will to change
My eyes can't trust to see.