Ruth Walters


Were I young again
and the month of March
were upon me
I'd skip down the road,
do a march to March,
sing a tune to March
dance a dance to March,
risk a prance to March,
strut and grind and do
a break dance to March.
Hop, skip and jump to March,
just like a the girl I used to be,
once upon a time in March,
when my cheeks had high colour
and my hopes were high.

Submitted: Thursday, October 04, 2012
Edited: Saturday, October 06, 2012

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Comments about this poem (March by Ruth Walters )

  • Rookie - 338 Points Danny Draper (10/5/2012 5:27:00 AM)

    The relfections of youth are worth a visit on occasion, but not to dwell or we will discount and dismiss our total worth the sum or our days and their intricate parts, the spices seducing our taste buds and tomorrows astringent farts. (Report) Reply

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