Ruth Walters

February - Poem by Ruth Walters

a short, dull month
always over
before its begun.

It is the middle child,
mostly ignored,
never spoilt
or fussed over

or the ghost train
we see
from the platform
where we wait.

It chugs through
real slow
but nonetheless
we miss its name.

February is my sister,
how I feel
when ignored in queues
these days,

for younger models
with smooth faces
and golden tans.

Feburary is a firework
made damp by
the mists
in winter.

It fails to ignite
every year
but is always
close to pay day.

Comments about February by Ruth Walters

  • (9/17/2012 3:57:00 AM)

    A great take on that unassuming month, what's it.... Anyway, here it's scorching or storms and thunder, no layers thanks, just a fan to sit under. (Report) Reply

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  • Martin O'Neill (3/7/2012 6:52:00 PM)

    As an engineer I regard February as the month of three layers and a scarf. Red cheeks, numb ears and functionless fingers. People tell me they would love all the fresh air I get in my job, suntanned in May. See me in February I say. (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 16, 2011

Poem Edited: Friday, February 17, 2012

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