Maybe it's the old sweatshirt
 worn and ripped
 pulled from closet depths
 on laundry day
 when nothing's clean

Maybe it's the ponytail
 pulling my hair up
 off of my neck

Maybe it's the bag
 tossed over my shoulder
 filled with pens and papers
 and the pieces of my life

Maybe it's the fresh-cut grass
 that fills the air with promise
 heading into eventful evenings

Maybe it's the semi-chill
 of early spring's embrace
 the no longer cold
 but not yet warmth
 budding in the air

Maybe it's the light
 with which you see me
 and hold me by your side
 making me feel this way again
 so young, so carefree, in love.

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