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On the sixteenth of May, you wore white — I wore black.
It was warm, we felt pleased and we smooched with a smack.
All four parents had come.  We would reap what we sowed.
It felt right.   It felt good.  But behold — it just snowed!

In the hope of mid-May, we made plans with no doubt.
I’ll do this — you’ll do that.  Should have googled our route....
Both your sisters showed up.  All bode well — well it bode.
What a car we would drive! But it suddenly snowed!

On the lawn, in the sun, we meandered and mused.
What a house we would build!  We were brightly enthused.
And that evening the guests brought of presents a load.
We unwrapped — oohed and aahed. Yet the darn thing just snowed!

Was the pastry to taste?  ’Twas a fav'rite of mine.
It was French.   It pleased all — both the rough and the fine.
Every bud squirmed with joy, and it clearly showed
as we drank and we yacked on the day when it snowed!

We were set to drive on — from point S to point E.
It’s a cinch in mid-May!  Who would dare disagree?
I went ‘vroom!'   You went ‘go!’  All the luggage was stowed.
But the sky hid its face for the world had snowed.

Many Mays may have passed, and we’ve seen this and that.
We have lost and amassed.  And we should have grown fat.
We have grown, to be fair, and we’re still on the road
from point S to point E back in May when it snowed.

We keep vrooming along, and by now we have learned
how to turn up the heat and then eat what we’ve earned.
Warm it is in the car; far — our distant abode.
Thus we mosey in peace — even if... it has snowed.

I can’t say any sooths; I won’t read leaves or guts.
Most predictions are bunk — there are few ifs or buts.
All we plan will come true... or it won't —  no one knows.
But I do know one thing —  May’s the month when it snows.
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