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That Time of Year
February 28, 2022
It’s that time of year,
It’s approaching fast and near.
Oh, this feeling of constant fear.
The red and pink of paper cut hearts,
And in the cold, heated up darts.
As I listen to songs of love,
And now I taste the chocolate dove.
The scent of chocolate and roses,
The words of thoughts composed and,
That awful pit develops,
Soon my stomach, enveloped.
I must move fast and quick,
Bile catches and then I'm sick.
To say I fear the celebration of Love,
Is to say there is no one above.
Pull of faith, even a shove.
© Francesca Y., Robbinsdale, MN
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