Funny how the illness,
Once the most potent sensation,
Barely even lingers now;
How everything green drank it.
Strange how my mouth,
Which just weeks ago converted words into tears,
Now produces something real,
Now fills with nectar.
Amazing how the anxiety that bound me
Is just a diaphanous creature fluttering by.
Mostly, miraculous how my thoughts
Only turn to him to realize that I don´t need him,
That here the springtime
Holds curative properties for every ailement.