Springtime

A small poem for all of you that are waiting for spring.

Spring peeks out from under his white blanket.
Tip-toeing up behind us, he catches us be surprise.
Spring drops a bucket of sunshine on our doorstep,
asking us to come and play.
The birds gladly sing as Spring walks down the path.
Buds pop up, and flowers bloom.
The question is,
when will Mr. Jack Frost leave this place.
Perhaps Spring is only hiding behind that baren tree.
In fact, I know,
Spring is just around the corner.