April Fools
Spring. A great yellow stain.
Forsythias burst and daffodils explode.
Swallows hurry back from Mexico
and are bitten by
the laughing snows of April.
Spring, the smile
of a ninety-year old man
who can't hear a thing you say
yet keeps talking to you nonetheless.
Spring and dreams
have that in common.
poem by David Kowalczyk
Added by Poetry Lover
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