Give me the melancholy
of clear skies
in moody March,
and the joy
of scorching sun
in mid October.
Give me the elixir
of blooming trees
in festive May
to put me into
somber slumber.
Give me earthy,
muddy leaves,
woven into soft rugs,
to walk on with
gloomy November.
I want to be fitted into a calendar,
into comfortable routine
so that I roll my way backwards
in near perfect opposition.
I want to rewind the seasons so as to match my mood.
Maybe then I'll be in sync with time.