-->The wind will pick up in April.
From there I’ll spend May going around,
while November isn’t aware of Christmas yet.
Then I’ll call you every night,
especially when it’s raining,
and I’ll teach myself to love the rain.
Last year was more magical.
The rain didn’t fall when we had
to show ourselves to the neighbors,
and your teddy bear had never been happier
in my bookshelf, among the poetry books
and ghost stories.
April is not a lonely month, really.
