the watchman.

from where i am on earth,

spring is a week late. 

if i didn't know any better,

 i would think she isn't coming at all this year;

instead, she chose to leap over this little mountain town. 

 then i remember:

you'll come to me unexpected, without notice,

and so i wait like the watchman awaits the morning.

the only difference is, you,

you are my morning.