The world ends in spring.
Doors open and let the air out.
It’s a traumatic thing.

In April the world ceases to be
There’s no room for doubt.
Every year it happens to me.

The world ends in spring,
That’s what comes about
The end of everything.

In May Death will play,
A melody of screams and shouts
And I’ll wish for one more day.

In June we’ll welcome Doom
Doesn’t matter why or how,
In spring the world becomes a tomb.

But I don’t worry,
There’s no hurry,
I’ll return with shadows,
And biting cold.
I never die, nor grow cold.
Oh, you should know.

Photo Credit: Andrew Buchanon