Heather OC: Week 17 of 208

May

is supposed to be kind. Flowers,

A bouquet you hand to me;

Smile and the rain’s behind.

But, no. The gloom has

Followed us, and no relief

Is on the digital horizon.

Spoil me around a poll, add

Ribbons - shiny, silk - to dangle

And dance in the breeze.

This will never happen. Winter

Is resentment, and it bubbles

Up in the mud under tires.

Stuck here and the trenches

Pull. No way to go that

Way. Lillies, where are you? Where?