A rebellion of storms;
hail-damaged lungs.
Too much unsaid
as she rampaged
out the slamming
late-March door.
Sunlight enters —
the cold squalls
of goodbye replaced
by the warm girlfriend glow.
April disrobes.
The Dance of the Seven Veils
Life in Portofino
Great poets live on the edge of sanity; mediocre ones reside in the suburbs.
“The slamming late March door” love it.
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Thank you! Out like a lion, you know. Glad you liked it!
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Who knew old cruelness herself could be so seductive. Good job!
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Hey, every woman (April, May & June) has her own allure; her own special charm. The cruelty of April is merely one of her wiles.
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Love “hail-damaged lungs”!!! And the last line is a keeper, LOL!
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