Homesick May.
Poetry about May
I grew up falling, o’er
and o’er,
heels and heads.
As a small child,
May was the month-
the one I got all candies,
just a fair month.
My mother would pack
sweet and juice for baby,
I was a baby.
Then I grew,
I slowly forgot the excitement-
but school reminded me,
I read various poems in literature,
“ shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
Remains my adoreth,
it was just like an ode to my dear month!
Oh my, oh my, it was warmth,
I became obsessed with both.
The older I grew,
I realized I didn’t need the cake,
nevertheless,
I had friends that did it anyway,
a friend with same month.
We both loved the month,
a thing to twin, like a same cloth,
We were proud of the month,
and we looked forward to it.
And I grew older,
older to hate May,
I lost two friends in May,
their betrayal ran deep in May,
I didn’t want to remember my birthday,
for I was right after the betrayer’s week- day.
Well, she had a blast-day and I had a sleep-day.
So, I grew out of it.
In a snap, I can’t keep hating forever,
May was going to be with me till death,
I became the matured one,
no longer giggling for candies,
good I still love Shakespeare’s poem,
didn’t have a twin month friend,
May wasn’t the freakish month,
again.
Hey friend🐻 You can just say Hello or write your birthday month below in the comment section.
It’s not a bye, we’ve got a lot to talk.
