letter to April

Dear April,

I remember from last year how odd you are. Still, I expected more from you, a lot more. Now that I think about it, it occurs to me that you, February and March are in on this cruelty together. February, so fierce and temperamental. March, let's face it, a tease. And you, April, well you've been the worst kind of cruel, the I thought we were such good friends only to find that you've heartlessly stabbed my in the back kind of cruel. I hoped for you April, thought you'd bring such pleasant days of sun and light to my life. I must admit I don't understand you. You are moody and changeable. You're not full of promises, April. You're full of bitterness that rivals February.

Don't become vengeful, April. It will only do you harm. You're meant to be soft and sweet like pastels and toenail polish colors. I want to adore you, to lavish in your warmth but you make it very difficult. Let's have another go, shall we? I beg you to reconsider reigning down your cold, icy heart on us. We can only believe so much in you, when you keep breaking your promises. I want to believe in you April, I really do. Show me I am not wrong about you and I will write you poems that you can keep forever, like a cherry blossom pressed to your heart.