april.

buried in a bloom of feeling,
i don't find this appealing. take it away.

i could be the buds, the tree,
the ones you thought were me.
i could be the rocks, the stream,
the leader of a team.
but i'm not.

the night is kicking it's cold,
they call this feeling old. take me away.

falling with a hot desire,
april and it's rain inspire. take me away.

i could be a hero, a saint,
a smile so strong, though still so faint.
i could be a child, with a mighty stance,
i could dance, and dance and dance.
but i'm not.