April Night
Rain
And folk music.
Barefoot, with tousled hair,
I sit here quietly
Hearing the wind, my tears, and counterpoint melodies.
My hand trembles in the april chill,
(April has never been cold before).
And I shiver as I sit here,
For truly I am sorry,
But the tears are not for you.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/all rights reserved
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