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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required They say it's a time to slip in the mud, and begin anew. Kick off the dust of yester ... and put on the dress of Yes Sir! and Thank You Ma'am She sure is a joy This baby little season And like moths to a flame we praise her name (we don't need a reason) And who can blame the helpless admirers trigger happy on their Kodaks drunk with Marigold Merriment. No matter your profession, everyone's a poet, when spring comes along, like a child, showing off her dandelion face, believing in her curious way that death has been conquered. But reality comes in firehouse red, with silver sickle blades that say, No can do, Little Miss Spring, not every bird, on every branch, has a song to sing. The fact of the matter is ... you're just another three months (Winter? Autumn? They're simply taking an overdue lunch, but they'll be back with the same fire The same ice) Hate to break it to you, Sweetie, but not everything nice is destined to remain (it's a cyclical thing ... you understand) You can bet your slender green stem even Little Miss Spritely has her down days, but like teenage hysteria it's just a phase (we can just pretend those zits are poppies they smell fragrant enough) And yes of course It's a time of LOVE! Young and Fresh --- Tongue and Flesh like good ole Elmer Fudd would say (bweeding like wabbits) Oh Little Miss Spring, surely you can't have everything! Green grass and blue sky --- it's halfway sickening the way you steal the show with your sunny splendor. And Poor Old December ... you left him in the cold, bragging up your warmth and innocent demeanor (I saw what you did to the snow) It can all be forgiven though Truly it can! I know it might feel like I'm freezing you out (but all the cool months are doing it) ... 'tis no excuse you saw through my ruse I'm just killing time before the Melancholy Mob comes back into town. Remember how they used to hang around Stick in the Mud Lane poking holes into your joy? (they annoyed me too) And what became of the pessimists, the argument-ists, the I-don't-believe-in-all-this kinda crowd? Are they all hibernating somewhere like Mother Grizzly? (If you ask me they can take all advice from this soda pop fade and fizzly) Written March 15th, 2016 For the Spring Contest Hosted by Catie Lindsey Poem of the Day: March 18th, 2016 Placed 8th
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