The Harsh Reality of Seasons

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Trees, a girl, and the falling leaves and brittle roots that mark the change of seasons.

Submitted: December 05, 2011

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Submitted: December 05, 2011



The Harsh Reality of Seasons

Change was in the air, and I nervously embraced it. It was the time to grow and you were the scent of spring, drifting slowly towards me. Your seed was planted and you took hold of me. We swayed in the troubled winds, but held our ground, rooted in love. And we grew. Together we grew.

Summer shone bright upon us. We stretched towards the heavens and basked in the glorious light. The fruit we bared was sweet. The sun blazed away, as did we, and as trials came you sheltered me in the arms I came to know so well. Summer faded, but we did not. We burned bright for everyone to see.

And everyday you burned brighter, lighting my way. The flames of autumn slowly painted the amber picture I still vividly see today. Your fiery remnants gently fell, scattering beautiful colors for others to admire. You were my stained glass window, tinting the world in the hues of your beauty. How lucky I was to be stained by your colors.

Winter knew I needed you, and winter made me grow. A frigid dose of doubt crept in, and covered us with snow. It felt like you enjoyed the freeze. Our dormant roots grew weak. Again we swayed in the troubled winds. This time we grew apart.

Wanting eyes watch as we waver, waiting for winter to wipe away what we had.

Winter winds meet winter sins and in the end winter wins.

And now you’re turning green again, your brittle branches budding. For spring brings change, and change you did, from my dear tree, to his.

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