“Slow down,” said the Virus,

“Slow down to take a breath.

Dodge me if you can, but only

Calm survives my frantic death.”

 

But April wants what April wants.

She grows so fast, and all the rest.

She holds your hand, she won’t let go,

While thinking only she knows best.

 

On the morrow, Summer’s waiting.

Who will waken, who’ll be left?

Will daylight shine on those below

Or cast a shadow east to west?

 

“Slow down,” says Summer.

“Slow down and catch

Each passing breath.”