A Year

I remember January, with sky the color of my childhood toys

I remember February, with its green clothes, and scent of spring.

I remember March, my first trip to the river and the smile of the fish.

I remember April, that Sunday you broke your promise and broke me.

I remember May, the garden of apple trees, oh… hiding under trees.

I remember June, hot days and cold ice cream, taking breaks under Mulberry trees.

I remember July, the sad days I passed in a cage of pain.

I remember August, you opened doors of hopes.

I remember September, losing Dad, a disaster.

I remember October’s long nights, I was so alone I even lost my shadow

I remember November’s Fridays, hoping to see you on Saturday.

I remember December’s coldest days.

By Roya

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2 responses to “A Year

  1. Touching and almost too honest – thank you.

  2. I am starting to recognize your style and know when I am reading your work even without looking at the name of the author. That is a big accomplishment. There is much to admire in this poem but the line that stood out to me was “I remember April, that Sunday you broke your promise and broke me.” That resonates in a big way for me and it doesn’t even matter that I don’t know what the promise was. Lovely work!

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