April.
Comes slanting down in the rooftop
from the furrow shoots the grain
banks are fledged with nestling flowers
In grey shawl and woodland bowers
the cuckoo through the April rain,
calls her once again
Withered plants,
fallen tree branches
how it started
and ended up in April
left alone herself circling along the Colosseum
looking for the memories along the way Cala Gonone
Remembering the time
when they went on a rainy day
drank coffee, and talked for hours
"sei la mia vita, stammi piu vicino."
while looked into her eyes
he said,
Sarah,
Sarah, hang it there
He asked her to close her eyes
and handed her the best Paulo Coelho's, The Alchemist
every page would remind me of you
she back said
And the way
when he told her about Celtic traditon,
the night of April 30
was thought of as the darkest of the year
when witched flew to frighten
spawning evel throughout the land
in response
people pounded on kettles
slammed doors
cracked whips
and what she was thinking is
April is the cruelest month.
he took a minute and back replied to her,
do you think so?
****
"Have she meet him again?"
"It's have been decades since then.
I heard all she was saying that,
April is the cruelest month, he won't doubt it now."
(rinzsu)
Saturday, October 5, 2013