Treasure Island

Unintelligible Susurration


May


May has arrived
discreetly
without my knowing.

It crept inside
with an invisible cloak
and wore the mask of April.

It is so peculiar
for me to not have noticed.

May is my month,
My mother's month as well.

May means possibilities
for everything.
I may have a wonderful May day.

I was sure May
would don flowers
blossoming in the plains.

Alas,
that is not the case.

May still cries
for her flowers.
April did not
cry enough, it seems.

Submitted: Tuesday, May 07, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, September 18, 2013
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  • Ace Of Black Hearts (5/7/2013 11:55:00 AM)

    Sometimes, may seems the time of summer, other times it seems like the end of a forgotten spring with endless amounts of rain. So far this month is dead heat for me, and dry as bone. You know the kind month with they spread of wild fire warning and watches across you t.v. screens. Anyways good poem. (Report) Reply

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