And March came by
but its presence started to feel heavy
during the end of February.
The days start to be longer,
and my eyes are forced to close
on my way back home.
Soon the flowers will start to bloom,
the cold won't longer reach my bones
and the people will be marching on the streets.
With the welcome of spring
I wonder under the starry night
What else will I have to say goodbye to?
As every spring my soul rots
as the strawberries inside my fridge,
a curse I still don't know how to break.
Mar 1, 2025
Mar 1, 2025 at 3:13 PM UTC
And March came by
but its presence started to feel heavy
during the end of February.
The days start to be longer,
and my eyes are forced to close
on my way back home.
Soon the flowers will start to bloom,
the cold won't longer reach my bones
and the people will be marching on the streets.
With the welcome of spring
I wonder under the starry night
What else will I have to say goodbye to?
As every spring my soul rots
as the strawberries inside my fridge,
a curse I still don't know how to break.
Request permission to use this poem