By RJ Traub
I am April, green and fair,
lilacs tangled in my hair,
oft-disheveled, awkward, wild,
partly grown but mostly child,
hope and comfort in my smile,
winter-haunted all the while.
Though my daffodils glint gold,
I was born of mists and cold,
struggling, when my wan sun sets,
not to destroy my violets,
now, as in primeval years,
trilling songs while spilling tears,
melodies I knew before
humans walked life’s corridor.
Charming May and fragrant June,
rose-adorned, will visit soon.
Meanwhile, take my bud and leaf,
gently dabbed with ancient grief.
Category: Poetry, SNHU Creative Writing, SNHU online creative writing