Don’t hurry spring
the wind still trembles
in the empty trees
and dead geraniums stand still
in Spanish Harlem window boxes.
Another week perhaps
when skaters leave the pond.

Now for a while longer
we can have the park to ourselves.

I need a while more with you just now,
there are some things
I don’t yet know.
Do you like the color blue
             do I worry you when I frown
where were you
when I was growing up and needed somebody?