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Rated: E · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2271157
For the taboo words contest
I trade shovels for umbrellas
when like a lamb, March leaves;
green shoots - wet Cinderellas
wait for sunshine's sweet reprieves

Next month I'll see the daffodils -
for now, the flowers sleep
and outdoor plans the downpour kills;
the sky itself does weep.

Rain shapes streams along my pane
my blanket, soft, is friend
I watch as robins laugh again
at Old Man Winter's end.




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