All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
April died and so did I
Oh sweet, sweet April
you will never be sweet again
My heart will not blossom and my mind will shut when your time comes
Winter brought news of death
Spring should’ve brought life
Instead the growth of death consumed
Instead to thaw it out with the Summer Son that shined so young
I carried him home, carried him to his death
The hill I carried him up led to heaven
He didn’t want to walk
He didn’t want to go
We both wanted him to stay with me, but he had to go
He left with the Summer Sun before it set
Before it set, I awoke to find him dead
The clock did strike
I awoke from my slumber
to wake him up
He did not wake
How would you like to find your love dead by your side?
He was left, lost in his dreams
ceasing consciousness
As I was seized by a nightmare
to be plagued forever
Oh, Dream Catcher
where were you?
to catch my bad dreams, to catch both of us and keep us awake?
to keep him from falling asleep?
The end of April gives off no light
The end of April is the darkest time
Every flower, every tree, every bird chirping in the spring
dies at the end of April because there is no life after Winter’s death
There is no life after death
When the Crab’s birthday came that Summer
I was reminded of the Cancer
There was no Son that Summer
But the Sycamore did grow without light
It needs no heat that comes from the hands of Happiness’ fire
It feeds off graves
So I buried our picture there
So it can have our souls of dead hearts still beating as one
Mother and Son
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.