March roared in like a wimp
Afraid to step foot into icy rains.
Dark and rainy, as in December
Held at bay by a warm stove's flames.

Let's go to the mall where shamrocks bloom,
Though made of silk or plastic
Canned music plays and people talk,
The blues fade away as magic.

Have faith I will for daffodils,
Burst through cold winter's rye.
Soon it will be St. Patty's day,
With green parades rain or shine.

By Norma (



Watch these pages for more poems by Norma.
In the meantime, click the links below for other poems and stories by the authors at Lara's Den.

The Fountain

March Is Nigh

March Wind


The Social Worker

Ode To A Japanese Garden


History Of The Shamrock

And.......for many others, click the index image.

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