Springtime - a poem by Chris Zachariou

 

there'll never be another springtime

In the season of dusk and sadness,
I recall flights of little swallows

heading down south

in the sleepy skies of summer.

‘Is this it?’ asks a baffled man.

A blackbird on the chimney squawks—

'There’ll never be another springtime.’

then it jeers and mocks him. The jester loves the young queen,

and a mournful owl on the roof

hoots the prince's final lines—

“The rest is silence.*”

The trees, withered and almost bear,

plead with Persephone to stay—

they know September is almost here.

* Hamlet's final line