Spring in here

Spring in here
is getting moody
withered leaves on the streets
still the dresses are getting shorter and shorter
and the scarfs go away
Head over feet
everything looks different
still the colors are same
Umbrellas don't protect from tears
neither from the rain
I'm sipping my coffee
bottoms up my friends
sugar death.
it's just a word cocktail
in a chilled glass served
and the thoughts that have grown
they swing in my garden
here. in my head

I should be working...and I know this one isnt really good..but who cares.. It's just a words-cocktail