It wasn’t new to me.
The clamminess of being alone.
The scraping for attention.
The begging for a life.
But when it happened, again,
I was caught unawares.
It had been autumn for too long.
Cold winds. Unprotected.
My spring came hesitantly.
Is unruly. Unpredictable.
Should I let it continue or
choose conscious hibernation?
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