April Fools

It’s almost a cruel joke.

Fitting though, for April Fool’s.

Where winter is supposed to bring death,

and spring renewal,

They became the rebirth

fodder for the flowers of death.

He was scattered out back

among the carrots and cabbages.

She was buried with the trees

that she used to hike along.

A child stared it in the face, waiting

and smiling.

Spring had never brought death to my door

but today it scraped its feet on the welcome mat

turned the keys

and let itself in.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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