top of page


A poem by Anonymous


March is the worst month of the year;

It's hard to explain it, but I know it's true

When everyone starts to get giddy

As soon as the weather is less gizzly

And the extra hours of daylight shine through,

as the snow melts to reveal brown ground

It's just as ugly as the last bits of November,

but- with bugs and bipolar weather

This March curse, however,

is not entitled to everyone,

But to those who are stuck

Stuck in a trap of time

When March comes it's

nostalgic, longing

Longing for the time when March was in fact,

the gamechanger of life

Picturing myself in the room with the green carpet,

and the others are just like me

I was beaming corner to corner,

knowing that I had found the place

where I would finally fit

and grow beyond the girl I used to be

but when the next March came along,

it was not good for anyone

I couldn't cry in the empty airport,

for my sobs echoed so loudly

that I had to stop and move on

and so, I did

To next March- it was more or less the same

Sorrowful, as everyone woke to a chaotic world

Then as March came again,

I faced great rejection,

and cried quietly in my bed,

what to do next?

reminiscing on that beautiful March I experienced years ago,

and the pain that remains from the cruel seasons of Spring

March through April,

the most mindless months of the year

Then it's March again,

and I watch the ones who wake

Happy, even with the gloomy mist

Having their splendid March wake

But all I can do,

is march forward,

Until it becomes,

March again.

11 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All



bottom of page