Thursday, March 11, 2010
I'm as restless as a willow in a windstorm...
I'd say that I had spring fever, but I know it isn't spring.
I am starry eyed and vaguely discontented, like a nightingale without a song to sing.
O why should I have spring fever, when it isn't even spring?
I keep wishing I were someone else, walking down a strange new street,
And hearing words that I've never heard from a girl I've yet to meet.
I'm as busy as spider spinning daydreams,
I'm as giddy as a baby on a swing.
I haven't seen a crocus or a rosebud, or a robin or a bluebird on the wing.
But I feel so gay in a melancholy way, that it might as well be spring.
It might as well be spring.
Oh, wait--it IS spring! And I'm back in Ithaca!!!
at 3:33 AM