An April Retrospective

Those few that even now do tenderly still cling to life Are surely soon to fall; as is the way of leaves in late November. So also is the way of love- where once did passion keep us warm I now can only struggle to remember simple gestures that defined your beauty. While you, while you I’m sure do never give a second thought To mornings spent in bed as dawn did turn to dusk Or to the Blessed Union we’d for so long separate sought Found suddenly in simple pleasures- like midnight runs to Wawa when our cigarettes ran out. How far away that Eden… It seems an outcast from the Garden of Delight has no recourse But to dream of summer romance that once freed him From iron chains. From loneliness. March, then spring brought with them you, And like an ice age ending my heart did thaw and bloom And suddenly the summer did not seem as such the desert It once did. But, as is its way, September came too soon And careless thoughts did wrench me from your sweet embrace. Alone, I am again, for season’s end has taken you who made me whole- So now I find I must concede that April IS the cruelest month For summer-even endless-holds no comfort for an autumn soul.