Children of April

Children of April

They won’t speak of us without a smile,
Though they’ll add, “Stubborn as a ram!”
We solve our problems in our own style —
And if we must, we break through like a ram.

A stone in the chest is not our tradition,
We don’t crave revenge — we’d rather forgive.
We’re practical minds in human conditions,
Turning foes to friends — that’s how we live.

Like children of owls, we think in the night,
Growing wiser with each passing year.
We do what we choose, standing for right,
And to reason and logic, we always adhere.

Our hearts wear emotions like bright-colored cloaks,
We cannot lie — we weren’t given that art.
But when we believe in something we spoke,
Others still trust us, deep down in their heart.

We’re sarcastic, direct, and loyal with grace,
Seem haughty to those who are foolish or chained.
Insatiable lovers, yet godless in place —
No palace or hovel has ever us tamed.

To our friends, we’re a father and shield,
And none on this earth, I’ll firmly bet,
Would walk to the end for a friend in the field
Like me — and April-born children you’ve met.