March, snow creates the road of pink ocean, 

all snowmen walk back to their heated house. 

Spring brings her men to trees in slow motion, 

branches are finally not bald like Mickey Mouse. 

 

April, the bright light past the long tunnel, 

it’s the shiniest stage for hand and glove.

The voice sings for me, I’ll keep my ears up and stay on channel.

What remains clear is the first flutter of love. 

 

May, Everything seems like a lovely dream,

I can see clearly even if I close my eyes.

Thank you, thank you for being the gleam,

I’ll hold you once more when the spring spreeze flies. 

 

We’ll meet again when the spring breeze passes, 

I’ll smile brightly when the spring breeze passes. 

 

 

By Stephy Wong