11 April 2014

a poem... sort of

There is nothing like spring in the paese.
So maybe there is.
It's fall in the paese.

But in the fall there are no peas.
And no cherries, blossoms or lip-staining fruit.
Or wisteria.
Or hills dotted with trees rich with purple.

No eager vines already bursting with this fall's harvest.

No glorious fields of gold.
(Think Sting was referring to rapeseed or wheat?)

There is nothing like spring in the paese.
No place with as many dandelion wishes, for sure.

Nothing that gives me quite the headache,
Or causes quite the itch in my throat.

Ah, such is spring in the paese!

And there is
Like spring
In the paese.

And that is as close as I am going to get to poetry, my friends.
Don't forget, April is National Poetry Month. Have you selected a poem to share on Poem in My Pocket Day? April 24.

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