The April I Prefer

April's presence pleases me. I mean the woman,
Not the month. She's come on her way somewhere
Else, her face aglow. She's like the sun in spring,
So warm and full of cheer. My soul, of course,
Retains the chill it took on when the winter came,
And April as a month is not one to be trusted here.
The sun may shine or it may snow. The plants will
Send up shoots which frost returns to slaughter
Every year. The woman, on the other hand,
Is thoroughly reliable. Alas, the month stays
Thirty days, the woman only three.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 79 times
Written on 2018-03-30 at 19:00

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