To M

Why I regret the winter that has been
And why I don’t rejoice now spring receives
Thick buds upon trees dressed in veils of green?
Late March woke to a stirring of the leaves
And surely all the world seems clean and bright,
A joyous change that’s chased away the gloom
Of cold, depressing winter overnight
And everything is budding or in bloom.
But with it comes a stirring of the heart;
Now May’s approaching and the world awakes,
More than before your distance turns the smart
Of hopes forlorn into a storm that shakes
My very core... That’s why I do prefer
The dead of winter, when my blood won’t stir.