Will You Call My Name?

March ended with such promise...

April rushed in with new love's blush.

May flowered, and so did we.

But June came,

and the open blossoms felt faint.

Petal by petal,

fluttering, falling,

'til only the core remained.

Even that held hope.

But July bore down,

threatening even the core.

Will we remember May

Or will the ravages of July remain?

Will we remember June

And will you call my name?