Why Do They Call You Summer?

 

Why do they call you summer

When your name is April?

Your fragrant scent of early roses

Permeates the room

And sunlight cuts across

The blue Axminster carpet

Bleaching the swirling dust

And warms tables to the touch.

 

I long for your cool hands

Across my fevered brow

But all you give me

Is clammy, blanketing heat.

 

I hear the drone of bees

Humming your name

Summerrrrrrrrrrz

Summerrrrrrrrrrz

Summer is here

She came early

And murdered my love

 

My April of green grasses

Mown for the first time

The sweetness of lemonade

On my lips

Sitting outside in

A cool breeze

 

But your burn

You parch

You deafen me

With your insistent

Drowse

 

It is Easter

And unnaturally warm

 

It isn’t summer

It’s April

 

And the flowers

are already open for business

and I cannot sleep

in this furnace house

 

Return to me my April

My sweet April of Spring