I usually write poems in April, for NaPoWriMo and/or National Poetry Month, but sometimes, they appear elsewhere. Nevertheless, April is often the Cruelest Month, as T.S. Eliot said, so The Cruelest Month, it is.
"Middle Age 1"
The minutes pour away like treacle,
last dregs on the side of the jar
that never seems to empty.
Waiting, trapped and transfixed
by the clock's hands,
you muddle through
Check out my poem,