They brought her flowers every April-

It's true what they say, April truly is the cruellest month-

Digging up the dirt in the front of the school,

Planting the bulbs anew and watching, as the year went by,

The tulips that sprang from the ground

And they swore, she could see them too. 

The girls cried.

The boys were solemn.

There seemed to be silence ringing through the air.

Some lives went on.

Others stopped

The moment hers did. 

Mondays have always been gray

The eternal sadness of a drudging why

But now I know the misery of forever

For Mondays mark the week, the beginning.

And there can be no beginning without an end.