Spring's Daisy Dress and the Wings of My Characters

The snow is twirling down,

dancing down to earth one

after another; it's

April, and

it seems it should be flower petals

raining down rather

than the flakes of frozen rain;

I imagine Spring is

curled under a blanket of leaves, knees

tucked up to her chest and

shivering in her daisy dress while

waiting for the sun to peek through and

thaw the heart of Winter, whose 

stubborn fingers are refusing 

to loosen their grip;

I imagine her curled up in the nook of a tree, as

I imagine my characters curled in the palms

of my hands; I

will forever refuse to let

them go, and

I will allow them to stay until

I finally write them fairy wings so

they can fly away; but

even then, they

will always be flying in the path

of my veins, and

they will always dance in the snow.