Therapy Bits

When blossoms burst in joyful song,

And daylight stretches warm and long,

The tulips rise, a vibrant hue,

Their petals kissed by morning dew.

The truth of springtime’s gentle grace,

Is seen in every budding trace,

The songbirds chirp a sweet refrain,

As rainbows arc through April rain.

But hidden in the season’s cheer,

Are secrets spun from whimsy’s sphere,

The daffodils in secret dance,

And whisper spells of love’s romance.

In meadows where the fairies play,

They conjure nights that banish day,

The butterflies, so light and free,

Are messengers from worlds we see.

The laughter of the melting snow,

Is music only sprites can know,

The rivers hum enchanted tunes,

Beneath the glow of silver moons.

So when you wander springtime’s lane,

Remember truth and lies remain,

For in each bloom and zephyr’s flight,

There’s more than meets the mortal sight.

Spring’s a season of barren land,

Where icy winds hold their command.

Flowers refuse to bloom or grow,

In fields where frost and snowflakes blow.

The sun hides behind clouds of grey,

And shadows linger, never to sway.

Birds are mute, their songs unsung,

Silence reigns, no bells are rung.

Trees remain in dormant gloom,

With branches bare, devoid of bloom.

Rivers freeze in silent dread,

Ice-capped waves lie still and dead.

No warmth to melt the icy veil,

Spring’s charm is merely a tale.

Winter’s grip, steadfast, remains,

Spring’s deceit in cold domains.

Yet deep within, a whisper lies,

Spring’s truth beneath the frozen skies.

For though the lie may weave its art,

Spring’s promise blooms within the heart.

April Fools | dVerse