I Am Old, but Spring Is Here

I am old.

I feel it in the creaking of my bones, the way the wind whips through me on a cold winter's night.

But today it is spring, and the sunshine fills my gaps like a warm orange putty of glowing light. My glasses, usually dim and dull, seem to create their own luminescence... Some of my panes are darkened and opaque, others are translucent and bright, and that Mr. Golden Sun plays my glass like a keyboard, bringing life to what hasn't always been so lifeless. My words are heard at last, shouting my messages in clear white, bold fonts. And that blue sky, oh that multifaceted, sea-turquoise, unreal sky... I've never seen anything like it. Even the rusty parts of my exterior, worn from years and years of weathering, shine pale-white with the overexposure. The ivy that wraps me is no longer gnarled and rough, but instead hugs my curves and is given new depth.

It's been a long winter, I have felt the cold sting of sadness and have tasted the bitter tears that have dripped down my weary face...

I am old, but the sun feels good. I am beautiful again; I am me again.