Cruel April

April 30 2 Comments Category: Poems

This pitiless April morning I threw open my door
And there in a collapsed heap was an exhausted traveler,
Her straggly hair like struggling dandelions on her back,
And limbs splayed out like denuded twigs on a bare tree.
I looked and saw her still alive and asked her name,
“Spring,” she whispered, “Midwestern Spring,”
And died as the merciless rain poured down.

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  1. Wow – that was just plain “cool” – I have to chuckle as the imagery is so strong – that was not just a poem – that was an experience!