An Ode to the Month of April
April’s thirty days hath taken their toll
And I have no current desires to extol the month itself
But, I feel that I must
Just
Say
That I do await the coming of May
With little or no trepidation
May asks of me little or no expectation
And I have a feeling that come what may
I shall say a thank you to April
Whan that Aprille (with its showers sweet)
Hath departed into the charted past.
I know that these months are sent to last
Just four weeks or a little more
But, I have the feeling
That my poetic tour of duty
Has been left revealing once more.
Oh, April, it means nothing to me
Yet, everything to me, it is
And will soon be, everything that was.
Why?
Because.