There's always a certain day in Spring that makes you think
you're right at the beginning of Autumn.
That day was today, February 19th.

It's always a Sunday. For me,
It seems like the hectic ways of Winter are about to take place.
The stress, the wind and the churn of your stomach when you come home to stew.

The peace is where you are on this day, at home
and with my family.
The settle only creeps in when you realise you're in Spring.

For some, comfort will peak in through various times of the year and disguise itself
as what puts you to sleep.
The wind I see in the trees, wherever I am this day.

as if you were listening to america by razorlight, but coming from your kitchen radio.
and your grandad is reading the paper, drinking his horridly weak tea.
It makes me feel like I am young, again.

Like a toddler with no flare of pain,
that only knows what it's like to play
in the leaves, surrounding her house in yellow midday.