and we'll say it was good

the cool winds are receding. the flowers are in bloom. the cars, they slow. they slow down, like a show. on parade. past the platforms full of people, waiting for their trains. waiting with the ranks, with their balloons floating so high. full of strange mechanics. full of hope.

we baptize ourselves in showers of sun. reborn for the better days ahead. reborn for the faces out amongst us. reborn for the surprises we know are coming. around the bend. around the corner of this barely there spring. around the sharp edges eroding into smooth curves for you to run your fingers along.

you wait. and we wait. and we wish less and less. we are full of strange mechanics. cranks and levers, disregarding executions and expirations and exhalations. oiled up with hope. the hope we will learn to love or hate. the hope we will dismiss or disassemble or display with our hearts on our sleeves.; rolled up, arms bare, full of curves for fingers.

we see it happening as though its already happened a million times before. we know it by heart before its begun. it clings to us. it shapes us. it parades us around through the light. the days get longer and we anticipate the late nights. we find comfort there, as though its already been in us for centuries. waiting, wondering, full of hope.

and we'll say it was good, while we wait for it to come.

we slow down, like a show. on parade for every passing glance. balloons up high above our heads. mercy is infinite and we are full of hope. because we know: it was good. it was good, good, good.