by Bruce Bennett

The yellow flowers are coming out
the way they always do.
The season never was in doubt,
and everything is new.

So let’s forget what weighs us down,
at least a little while.
The yellow flowers are coming out.
Come on. You too. A smile.

Come on. It’s easy. I won’t tell.
Just do it now for me.
Don’t hide back somewhere in your shell.
Please! Nobody will see,

And even if they do, so what?
They ought to smile too.
See? See? The flowers are coming out
the way they always do.