The Breath of Spring
What is the breath of spring,/
If not Patricia?/
Is’t just the freshness of the air/
That greets me when I venture forth?/
But this is just continuation/
Of the spirit she breathes out/
On all who come within her radiance./
Is’t then the warmth of sunshine only,/
That, in the gentleness of spring,/
Soothes my weariness and calms my soul?/
But what magic could this sunshine have/
If it no warmth drew from Patricia?/
The heart of one who loves/
No doubt’s irrational,/
As lines of mine above exemplify,/
And yet, for me, just now,/
The source of all my sunshine is Patricia./
She quite fills my horizon/
And her presence justifies/
All things there are worthwhile and beautiful./
For when I’m with her/
All the hours pass like minutes,/
I know not whence they came/
Or where they go./
We meet, we find a place to dine,/
And all too soon, its time to say “Goodnight”/
And face the lonesomeness/
Until again I see her,/
Or hear her voice upon the phone,/
So what’s the breath of spring/
If not Patricia?/
--Carl
March 20, 1966
Dr. Carl Duncan and Patricia Whiting Collection (SJSU)
