A Song of Springtime Sadness

Generally, with the lightness of gentler weather, we often find ourselves infused with a preternatural happiness that eclipses our worries and makes us all feel so lofty, to be one with the changing nature of the earth. Generally, this is the case, but not always. And so much more rarely does one feel this love when they feel as though their own source of joy had been disrupted by change otherwise than the purely climatic.
With the passing of time I've felt so often a pain now so that the pang itself is ever so familiar, and yet it never gets any easier, and every day is just another day I live with suffering.

Around me are so many noises;

the manifold voices of singers

ring out from out their box-speakers

like phantom messages of the past.

The wind blows, as always,

rustling leaves and carrying clouds,

the blue sky burns into my retina.

This day should be so complete,

almost, it is, but…

There is an untraceable element

that compounded my happiness

and it dissipated

the day that you dispersed.

Now every day is just as bland

as the day proceeding

and each is just as saddening

as the day that follows.

Every song rings untrue

that any song be sung

without you.

And even should that element

of happiness ever return,

how could it ever fit the same,

when it will never be

as it was

on the day you left me