Poetry: May by Sara Teasdale

The wind is tossing the lilacs,
The new leaves laugh in the sun,
And the petals fall on the orchard wall,
But for me the spring is done.

Beneath the apple blossoms 
I go a wintry way,
For love that smiled in April
Is false to me in May.

I found this on a random poetry hunt, an accidental find. It’s been a week now and I still can’t get it out of my head.

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Jenny @ Reading the End

I like the last two lines. Not in relation to romantic love, but to smaller kinds of love — you know? Like love of new things you’ve discovered, and the way the shininess can wear right off and the thing seems silly the next month.