March always makes me feel that I don't belong in this place - no matter where I am at that particular moment. No, you're not supposed to be here - March says, you belong to a happier place, somewhere you can be blissfully lost, somewhere you are loved, somewhere without disappointment - that destination he stands, awaits for your arrival. But March has never been around long enough to keep his promise and take me away. So at this place I stay.
For long I have learned to be as happy as I can, to accept what I have without yearning for what I cannot possess. Yet when the 5th of March knocks on the door annually like a close friend, my desire for the spring awakening comes alive. I take a deep breath, open up the door and greet him with a long embrace: "Hello there, my dear" I see March through my teary eyes and though we no longer weep together, I can tell he has changed - the image of him changes as my poor memories start to fail me miserably. No matter how much I refuse to accept it, somewhere in my heart, I have already foreseen my defeat to time. "He's fading away, day by day, minute by minute, second by second..." The thought of my happiest day hurts like a sharp blade plunged across my heart, twisted twice. Nevertheless, I clear my clouded mind and burdened heart. We have a small meal - an intentionally burnt omlette. We then play an old song, me on piano, him on violin - a duet. For March, I will touch the black and white note again, commemorate the love for Spring ... Yet before the last note was struck, April rolls in with her outrageous lies
And the excitement is gone... I die, again and again with the departure of March 5th. So come on now, let the resentment of Spring begin
