in all the wanted ways
the envious grays
of languished March eves
they teeter on that ledge
where all has been called
every guest has received
their perfect paper invitation
and yet all waits
the weather hesitates
to step through the door
into the biding hall
the budding banquet sits
for the floral feast to commence
a nether world of dreams swirls
in the anticipation of the wake
the wax continues to drip
the nectar longing for a sip
amidst the dreary pollution
of languished March eves
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