Catch the Wind, by Mary Wallace

She skipped passed my window heading to the park, her skirt billowing in the wind. Light of feet, filled with gaiety, she spoke to me of past happiness and coming Spring. Such joy of life, she beckoned to be followed. I gave chase determined to share her exuberance, grabbing her as she reached the park gate, holding tight to foil her escape. A middle aged man breathing heavy, attempting to recapture his youth. That joy, that glimpse of past Springs was no longer. I gazed at the limp plastic bag and consigned her to the rubbish bin.