Do your thing
(Not my poem, that's below)
One last chance
The April grey steel sky
sheds its skin for another lying sun;
Fool’s gold
dressed in false promises.
I have been fool enough,
So now disbelieve the optimistic shafts of sun
peeping through the
conspiratorial crack in the curtains.
Shadows try to hide
the last of the stubborn snow
as desperately as a schoolboy
hides his hoard of skin
when he hears mother’s tread on the stair.
Spring, get your shit together.
We can’t go on like this.
Your cold shoulder is making me
long for kinder climes and this time
it won’t be just a fling.
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