The cruellest months are April through to March... For though I don't know much about a gain Or loss of time & atoms, bangs both small And big, eternal recurrence, steady state Or chaos theory, meteor strikes & all That crazy jazz, I feel a nagging pain Which seems sad pleasure too, & cannot hate It's frissons, yet I gasp & sigh & parch For lack of Lara, hunger, long & yearn Within this twilight limbo zone she left us, Missing too the stars & moon & sun Which all went out & fled away to Texas With her, keeping her in tune & fun, But coming back this spring in safe return...
L. A. Barron
[25/2/13]
