5.04.2011

'twill not be spring

A poem for spring by my grandmother. Let's pretend I posted it in April. Also, let's pretend I can write even half as beautifully as she.
When April comes and you are far away,--
Bitter-sweet April with her smiles and tears--
When meadows freshened by their winter's sleep
And gently falling rain, awake to find
Blue violets lift shy heads among the grass;
When hardy crocus flaunts its gayest hues
Along the paths we loved; arbutus clings
Around our rock up on the farthest hill--
That rock we found last Spring when you were here--
When mad rain swoops across the sky
And leads a trail of sun behind;
When over all, the soft, sweet breath of Spring
Lies, bringing old memories of you--
My dear, my dear, where April comes to me
With you not here to share--'twill not be Spring!

9 comments:

  1. i thought you'd like that one! :)
    she was amazing. truly.

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  2. April was too busy crying to let in the sun. I hope May is a happier girl, because I don't know if I can wait for June to drag her butt over here.

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  3. you are gonna have some really nice flowers this year :)

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  4. No matter the season, one should always flaunt her gayest hue.

    This is lovely and lyrical! I heart grandmas.

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  5. OMG. Gorgeous. How humbling. She is excellent. I've read little snippets that youve posted in the past but this one is really beautiful.

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  6. this may very well be my favorite of all.
    thought that is hard to say. maybe.

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  7. I see the writing bug is hereditary. :) Very wonderful poem. (As are yours, my dear)

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  8. thank you, my dear.
    you should read my grandmother's other poems.
    click "my grandmother" in the tag cloud.

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