March is a thin month
Cold, green and bitter
As springtime lies remembered
Love outworn but not forgotten
Wraps around my throat
Pins my helpless arms,
Dead gnarled vines
Brown and hard
Thick as my wrist
March is a thin month
Doubtful and uncertain
Tendrils of rebirth
Still lost in winter's death
Promise not yet made
That life will be reborn
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