Saturday, April 20, 2024

Untitles - NaPoWriMo #20

 

Now, at the start of spring

Winter sends us one last blast

of cold.  Like a dying

patient who rallies

just before he

finally fails,

finally falls

into whatever comes next

 

Though no one seems to mind

when Winter dies

 

Winter has one of those,

“it’s a blessing”

deaths,

 

though, when people say it

about a loved one

(theirs or mine)

I want to scream

or give them a slap

or both,

no matter the circumstances of the death

 

But the death of

Winter is

another matter.

 

After all,

we know that

Winter

will always

find her way back.                                                      

 

 

  

No comments:

Post a Comment

Writing about not Writing, but with Rhyme

Nothing much to say today My thoughts have dried and blown away. No joyful verse with a cherry ring no lyrics for anyone to sing n...