Spring

I run my hands on the back of this old leather jacket
Oh the smell of my daddy's wallets.
My bones shake in anticipation, in weakness - but I still stand.
Staggering like a blind man and as tipsy as a drunken sailor
I catch on to you, latching onto the skin.
The feeling of the rough scaly skin reminds me of a snake
But the smell of spring brings the feeling of love in the air
Do not be fooled by the actions of others
And treat them like you would want to be treated.

Poem by J.A.D. © 2003