Dear March,

And here we are, March, at the 31st. You've felt both too long and fast to handle. Summer is in full effect, and my words tend to vanish in the heat. But I’m a fighter—I’ll adapt to the heat, and so will my verses. Your warmth left its mark on me just like this season every year.
Hope, our friend, will remind me of you as I go,
and breathe your memories into my lines.
Maybe April will be persistent, and
my words will be consistent.

With love,
a finite wordist for now.

-

These days I write
letters; an easier way
to put my heart on paper.
Yet, here I am
writing a verse
about letters I write.

-

Dear March,

What can I say? You begin on a Saturday, and those tend to fill up quickly—like today. I've been running errands all day with barely any time to breathe.
I feel the change in the wind as you feel me changing but that's who we are now, so no complaints there.

My words have been finite lately, so I'm trying to make them count. Maybe you've arrived at the right time. I'm yet to figure that out but let's begin with hope like I always do. You're already a friend, making me write to you on your first day.
And by the time you're gone, I'll see a new season and maybe you'll see me writing more letters to you.

With love,
a finite wordist for now.

-

In a desperation to get it right
I walk into the room
full of memories.
Peace lilly, my best friend
watches from the corner.
I look at the chaos
of deafening silence.
A pink birthday hat and
untold boxes of coffee mugs
but my favourite colour is a sparse word.
And home is a photo frame.

-

You're my home.

-

I want to share my favourite chocolate with you.

-

The first 31 days
feel like 365.
And 01 feels like a 12.
January looks down on me,
an amateur poet.
But I stand tall and
go on a date with February.

-

a bouquet of hope,
demanding consistency from me.

-

A meeting begins, words are spoken.
An empty chair awaits and
my earphones attend curiously.

-

The evening wind picked up
as I watch the sky.
I see glimpses of a new moon
waiting for the stars
to share its stories of the week.
It's Friday and
the moon came early today,
for me.

-