winter crushes
the promise of April,
a string of robins
shiver at my window;
heavy breasts huff
in the cold. a child
digs for spring
with burnt cheeks;
my hopeful tulips
depart. I have
tea to replace
your warmth,
and for breakfast,
a mouthful of words
I forgot to send
with you-
my tears offer the
poinsettia
the only relief
it deserves,
and I realize,
the more we grow,
the lonlier
I become
Jennifer Jenkins
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/missing-spring/