A farewell-to-spring poem

I've been writing a lot lately, working on my story, my memoir, my book. But I needed a break from prose and wrote this farewell to spring poem. Enjoy.

Spring looks like
she spent the night at the prom
and is rushing home
to beat her curfew at dawn.

 Her fresh corsage is now just
breeze blown petals
on the crushed grass.

Drying dying lilac blooms
have the over ripe scent
of stale drugstore perfume

 and petticoats of leaves
rustle immodestly on every tree
in the shifting, rising wind.

 Every tulip is ragged at petals’ edge,
scuffed from dancing
and swaying too close to one another

and the heavy buds of roses yet to come

bend their stalks over, over

like a careful up-do coming down.

Soon, perhaps tomorrow,
she’ll step out of her pastel dress,
shake off the pollen,
and slip into summer.

© Amy Kortuem 2011