Faye Sizemore

THE SPECTER THAT WAS MARCH

Behind me…
looming… darkness
following forever
as sadness…
the specter that is March
April’s rain
did not wash
away the pain
May’s flowers
could not
brighten my hours
The heat of June
and sweet summertime
has not lessened my gloom
and so the months and years
… have yet to dry my tears