Saturday, June 18, 2011

Month Misplaced

Where did March go?
I seem to have missed it.
It didn’t come like a lion;
More like the March Hare,
Quick and darting
And certainly a bit mad.
There it goes down some hole,
I catch but a glimpse of tail
Too quick to grasp.

It came an assassin at Ides
And slashed from me my month.
It caught me unawares,
Whistled by me on its winds
And took it on the lamb.
When the weeks are like a day
And the day is but an hour
You understand the parade
You missed in the March of time.

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