April Poem by Louie Vizcarra
April
April, she will come
when streams are ripe and full of rain.
May, will she stay?
June, she will shine
the blue of the sky and the noonday glow
July, what do you know?
October, she brought fire
I swear I care I've thought it over
I want to play your game.
November, she brought ice
I shook my hand and threw the dice,
Let's see if you're the same.
Friday, April 27, 2012
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4/28/2024 4:10:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
