March has kissed me,
I am all unraveled.
Spring had missed me
and I had missed the flowers.
He comes in colours
I had long forgotten.
His mouth devours
and my mouth is open.
He comes in whispers,
then in mighty howls.
His love is brittle
and his arms are shallow.
March did kiss me,
but it is now September.
Spring has missed me,
I hardly remember.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry
ПоэзияThis is my first attempt at poetry in English. I have absolutely no idea if I'm doing it right, so I'll be counting entirely on you to tell me if I should keep going. Please tell me your opinion even if it's negative. Hope you like
