April bloom never arrived,
 I was left dry,
 hoping for regeneration,
 but my seeds at all but die.
 
 I long to be swept away
 by the shifting sand,
 to be freed by roaring winds,
 to forget who I am.
 
 As everything lay so still,
 silently wilting away.
 
 Dusk arrived and took the hold,
 pushing the sun down,
 Red turned black, the freezing air.
 I fell to ground.
 
 As everything lay so still,
 silently wilting away.
 
 April bloom never arrived,
 so I look within,
 to live the year and season
 without changes.