Blue skies remind me of you-- what an inconvenient heart-string.
Like heartbreak photosynthesis, the sun and the bright clouds burn through me a desire to grow towards you.
What does a flower do when the breeze no longer flirts with its petals?
Where does a bee go when its favorite plant has been picked?
Grass is always greenest after the first snow melts, but you ran from even the first sign of frost.
Am I supposed to hate Spring?
Can I not enjoy Summer?
We shouldn’t have shared with each other the weather.
You selfishly took my sunshine, I need you everyday.