Recently, my wife June was away for a week visiting her aging parents in FL. Whenever June is away (which isn't often--thankfully), I tend to get a bit melancholy. The cat is simply no remedy for me. As the days drag on, I invariably miss her more and more. And then poetry breaks out, or a song.
March of Months started with this simple statement in my head "June's away and Mark will play".... but that wouldn't fly. Too much negative connotation :). Playing golf is what I meant, really. So then I can up with June's away and July's in the books and the rest of the months just flowed...
March of Months
June is away
July’s in the books
And an August man pretends
He likes September’s looks
But October has the colors
While November ends in gray
And December brings on snow
While January lets us play
February piles it on
As we March into the spring
Where April rains upon us
And May just lets us sing
Then June comes back again
To kiss away my sleep
Get up and do it all over
For again it’s time to leap