at first, our love  was spring,
new and tender and green,
we traded cherry blossoms
and took picnics in the sunlight

we became summer then,
of fire and heat and red,
frantically collecting passion
and free time in our raw throats

autumn came next, with
cooling air and dying leaves and orange
we could feel our love slowly fading
as the days grew shorter and chilly

then, with a shock, winter arrived,
as frost and salt and black and white
the snowstorms we created raged,
and lost us in separate planes