March in New York

A maddening month to see

Trees were painted to dark

That must be

A sad angel of heavens

Swallowed the golden lights

Of morning sun

March in New York

A depressing month to me

A snow show suddenly falls

That must be

A sick Muse

Vomited undigested stuffs

From last night revelry

March in New York

When morning, a faithful mirror

Present a pale face

That must be

A sculpture of Venus

Enchanted by a fleeting of passions

In some nights of sleepless