Inspired by TS Eliot

​"April is the cruelest month,"
though I am quite tempted
to choose May.
It takes but one lone act
to turn a month into
a single day.
May determined that nine years
was long enough 
for me and daddy dear.
Uncaring that I lost
words then voice then face
to each and every passing year.
But April, still, hurts more than May
for then my mother 
took her last breath.
And though I'll always hate
the month of May.
It's April's cruelty
I'll remember best.




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