lara-schoen

He only loves me on cool days
I am
Breezy and liquid he envelops me
In
But Summer's cruel light, loud yellow noise
Somehow weakens me
Revealing an age and countenance unacceptable
Sways his resolve
Stone his demeanor, he shuts down

This new climate is my nemesis, at least in the West
I wait longer for swirling leaves 
For deafening snow
Maybe a move to more Northern climes will cure
a move South will shake the rafters 

Frozen (funny that), I can never choose
I know I will await the chill