Grass

The smell of grass teases my nose,
And tricks my body into thinking it's warm.
Echos of mowers, of engines and sun,
Reverberations of easier days.
Those early spring days, when your body can't decide
Between goosebumps and warmth.
The nip in the air, only there in the wind,
Tries to capture your skin, your heart.
Winter lost a soul that it wanted,
A soul that was destined for its icy depths.
The smell of grass gives a promise of easier days ahead,
Where laughter will be prevelant,
Instead of tears, drowning in themselves.
The smell of grass, a wistful wish, a drop if water or two
As the ice begins to melt.