Laughing, I say that I always fall in love
at the end of March:

"Maybe it's the spring sun, forgotten, thawing out again,
dripping its rays on my serotonin-deprived shoulders."

"Or could it be Christ? Hallelujah! He's risen again!
I praise the Lord, clasp my hands, recite Psalm 3.1415!
The word of the Lord. Thanks be to God."

But perhaps it's none of that, maybe
I've found my soulmate, mi media naranja.
Maybe the word at should be changed to with:

I've fallen in love with the end of March;
and I will see you again next year, my love.