April's Song

I've always understood the poet who loved Italian
When he spoke of the cruelty of the spring,
And it seems he is finally right,
The coming April will be the cruelest yet
When your mind glances over my name
And chooses to forget.

Yes, I am preparing to forget you,
When April proves as cruel
As the resistance I found in you
Proved fascinating to me.

Oh, Rachel, call me back with a song.