Dear April
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how I yearn for July
and that fat summer sun
the long sunny days
and the eves' sultry fun
but sweet April's weep
while it runs to the rills
is a soft song of spring-tide
as it splashes and spills ...
no, I can't rush dear April -
it's gone much too soon ...
oh the gorged summer days
ever stretched in the past
rife with play and carefree
yes, I prayed they would last
yet, now each dawning day
finds a mockingbird's song
and I've waited that warbling
sweet psalm, far too long ...
no, I can't rush dear April -
it's gone much too fast ...
how June swells with romance
- thrilling hopes for July
mischief made 'midst the dunes
with the moon winking, high
still, now peepers' songs
ravage late-winter's gloom
and branches sway, heavy
with buds bound to bloom
no, I can't rush dear April -
(though May's drawing nigh) ...
oh I love nothing more
than a summertime, fair
all the hazy and crazy
days - devil-may-care
but a crispy spring morning
while birds chant their love
is a rare blessing, born
from the heavens above
no, I can't rush dear April -
I'm too fond of that air ...
too brief are those days
and the joys I find there
its breath lifts my spirit
and soft-tousles my hair
oh I'll never get bored
with dear April, quite rare ...
no, I'll never be bored
with dear April ...
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden | Year Posted 2021
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