I’m sorry, March.
I’m sorry I tried to drive on your roads,
They must ache so, scarred and pitted by those nasty older siblings of yours
January
February
I’m sorry, March
I’m sorry to expect so much of you
Always poking into corners, checking out the grass
Wondering if you brought me a present
Like maybe Spring
For instance
It isn’t fair to you
My getting my hopes so high
It’s not your fault that you’re a mutt
A halfbreed
One foot inside of Winter
One foot out
So, I apologize.
You just keep on being March
I will do my best not to ask
“Are we there yet?”
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