Spring.
Tulips bloom and our crape myrtle grows,
Along with our hope
For a more promising year
Summer.
Seizures rock our world.
Emanating like earthquakes
From the fault lines of her brain
Autumn.
Leaves shrivel and drop
Just like she does when she loses her balance,
And falls to the ground.
Winter.
Cold winds and dark thoughts give me dry skin.
A red rash that is a physical embodiment of the irritation
Seething beneath my pale complexion.
Feb 21, 2012
Feb 21, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Spring.
Tulips bloom and our crape myrtle grows,
Along with our hope
For a more promising year
Summer.
Seizures rock our world.
Emanating like earthquakes
From the fault lines of her brain
Autumn.
Leaves shrivel and drop
Just like she does when she loses her balance,
And falls to the ground.
Winter.
Cold winds and dark thoughts give me dry skin.
A red rash that is a physical embodiment of the irritation
Seething beneath my pale complexion.
Just some background so this poem makes more sense. My mom had a stroke a few years ago as a result of cancer. So this poem is about her
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