Air
I’ve been here before
In February
When it tries change color
Promising gold in a world of tin
As air doesn’t color
I’m always the fool
Air is air
It’s just there
it hovers my eyes in the bleak
but though with a wink
sits on my lips like an imp
waiting
want
halts with simple
colorless hue
and asks only my acknowledgement
until one day
Air
I’ve been here before
When it changes colors to lemon
Something air cannot do
But does defy
That
Air
One beautiful day’s eye
Air
I’ve been here before
And it’s a wonder
As winter dies
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Spring spung for a dVersepoets.com prompt
frankenberrysattic.com 
I think you broke up some of the two-word names, but thank you for writing to the prompt. It is amazing how the air changes in spring.
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I did Merril, took a liberty or two from the prompt but thanks. It is indeed amazing how the air changes, just ask a cat who rushes to an open window.
If Bella, as a cat, could do more than squeak in her tiny cat voice she would rejoice out loud at being in new air … and she does in small, old new spot, winter squared finally in windows tall and she forgives.
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