It’s the cleaning season.
I’ve been waiting for this part
Because the tension has grown so intensely.
I know that I’m going to find you again
Like Easter grass that just won’t disappear.
What was once pretty and presentational
Is now a never ending task to pick up,
Sticky pieces of you covering my fingers,
Stuck in corners from better memories of innocence.
Even 3 months later, I’ll still be finding you
In scattered memories under the bed
And within the covers you’ll lay, less than sentient, tangled.
Entwined in the carpet, you’re only a natural fact
Because candy is a child’s life, until they grow up.

But there are some things you just can’t avoid
And Easter grass is just something you need to let go of.