March has come and March has gone.
But still the snow is on the lawn.
The birds are here, they sing their song.
But something still is very wrong.
The bikes are out, they lie about.
The kids are in, they sit and pout.
The snowpants have to be got out--again!
Poor Mom! Just hear her shout.
April's here, but still we fear
That her intentions are not clear.
No buds are open on the trees.
No flowers wait to greet the bees.
We're begging! We're down on our knees!
Oh, Springtime! Come to our house, Please!
7 comments:
Sorry to hear your plight. Your poem had such passion though. I liked it a lot.
Less bugs though, right?
So sorry Edith! We are having the most glorious spring here! My first Spring in 7 years. Heaven. I'll post pictures. And I always love your poems!
loved it! but so sad for you. poo.
But not too fast
Or we'll be in a nast
Y mess!
niiice. And even if the weather were good - you should see my family. It's like a morgue in here. I'm the only one not sick and moaning. It's like a morgue where the corpses moan.
I love the poetry, and I feel your pain! Things seem to be looking up though. Poor Victoria, moaning corpse morgue sound terrible! I hope they get better soon!
Post a Comment