What does this cold spring bring?: A poem 

I wish to be bedazzled by the devilry 

of the sun. Though, I think 

it has been a rather cold spring 

as if a season can bring 

with it, its nondescript mockery of everything 

I owe it to the fleeting sky 

that the sun is not always in my eye 

November rain doesn’t cause me pain 

Though I wonder how swift the year has been again 

But, the sun, I implore it to sit 

on my couch’s cushions, and give me wit 

 I struggle with secret suffering and, somehow, fit 

the travails in countless burdensome moments 

I don’t know if hope is losing potency, going dormant 

If I could only count my treasures, 

as if they never were stolen by the thieves of time 

They have burgled my joy, but not my rhyme 

For, I look into the mirror today 

feeling all those turbulent years sashay  

And say that all those evil’s treacherous ways 

have not brought age to my gait