Winter leaves a trace of frostbitten memories.
Don't speak to me of spring,
without closure.
A winter romance is not a summer fling.

When I ask her for warmth
she hands me a dying man
who won't make it through the season.

The winter
It will not be
Eternal

For now it is
Always
Cold
And Christmas
Never seems to come

But someday
Spring will arrive
Summer bounding after
Fall sweeping them both away
Laughing all the while

And then the winter
Will come another time
But this time
The winter
Will have the joy
Of celebration
And the beauty
Will not be bitten by the cold

This new winter
Will take its due time
And then move
Into the distance
So spring again
Can dance in sight
Her companions not far behind.

(theinkthatspeaks.blogspot.com)

I want to experience something beautiful. I want to be something Beautiful. But beauty doesn’t just happen. It is earned,it is toiled for.
It is what all decent people want. People are too concerned on what they look like.  If they are too skinny or too fat or smell too like old french fries. No one is really beautiful at first glance. Pure attractiveness does not equal beauty. To me beauty is something deeper. Something much deeper. When one person truly knows someone else that is beautiful. when one person can just be with another and just be satisfied. Just honestly happy by the mere presence of the other. That is beautiful.

With sand sinking quickly,
It’s dragging me down and there’s no way of saving me.
You stand and watch me drown in my own river, for now, I’m just a skeleton in your closet.

Words of regret you feed me,
But I throw them into the stream because the adventure was so much sweeter.
I told you to just leave me in a pit and wait for the earth to cover me up.
If you so greedily wish to see me again just dig me up.
When I ask to throw me into the sea you were scared of the waves I was to create.
I told you not to worry because if you want to see me again just dive down below.

This life is all I want to remember.
I don’t want to live a future.
You told me if I died you’ll never grow me flowers or cry for my pain.
So I stopped and lived another day for you.

And you told me you have been on the run for decades but never knew why.
So since you know you must keep moving you kissed me in every language you knew,
As our hands parted like passing ships.

I said I'll meet you by the water
Just follow the path down the shore.
Follow me across the world,
to a place that's left unexplored.
We'll carve our names into the tallest tree,
reaching up towards the heavens and skies.
We'll count the stars as we leave,
to the other side of the island.
Drag a stick through the sand,
drawing tiny infinities.
and then we will sleep in the trees,
it's safe, trust me.
Look at the skies and watch the clouds roll by,
they were all ours.
We traced constellations with our fingers,
and talked in the language of the stars,
so they smiled back at us and sang us songs to sleep.
There is an island named after us.
A legend of a pariah duo.
Oh, the stories this place will hold.

Run away from here
to the sea
where you can finally find comfort
in the lulling waves
and simplicity of the deep blue
run away from here
and I will find you

Run away from here
to the forest green
make friends with all the animals
and tell them your secrets
climb trees like they are mountains
and howl with the wolves
at the crisp blue moon
run away from here
and I will find you

Run away from here
to the top of a building
watch pedestrians walk by
with ants on the way to their hill
contemplate jumping
but decide against it
when you find the girl in the building across
is quite pretty
and likes to dance with the windows open
to jazz and hip hop
run away from here
and I will find you

Run away from here
to the desert heat
pile sand on your legs
for warmth at night
throw stones at the vultures
to keep them away
run away from here
and I will find you

Summer is
dancing leaves,
whispering breeze,
flowing creeks,

Summer is
endless skies,
clear nights,
flickering flames,

Summer is
sweet music,
campfire laughs,
warm friendship,

Summer is
long road trips,
western destinations,
adventures ahead,

Summer is
waking in the morning,
watching the sunrise,
loving until sun set.

When we were young, we had some fun,
With summer on our heels.
Then fall comes in, and chills our skin.
Still, we know how summer feels.

Summer would be the sunflowers seemingly blooming from beneath telephone poles as a reminder that love can travel upon the wires connecting long-distance lovers, the ropes that cling to trees as though reuniting after a twelve month absence as they bear the weight of two bodies more entangled in each other than the pattern of the hammock that they lie upon, the ice cubes that float atop the glass of sweet tea stealing quick kisses each time the glass is lifted as they melt together beneath the heat.

Fall would be the leaves clinging to the tree limbs whispering secrets to each other as they flutter in the wind and change color according to the lovers that will one day float to the ground beside them, a calm pond reflecting former versions of couples who have always desired to know each other before their time of acquaintance only to realize they never existed until the day that they met, the stone path that weaves through a graveyard that has felt the light footsteps of paired souls wandering the grounds during midnight strolls.

Winter would be the snowflake drifting in the wind quickly memorizing the patterns of each familiar one it passes in an effort to reunite with its match made in the heaven from which it has fallen, the steaming cup of tea that collects condensation in the hands of lovers who find solace in sitting upon their front porches when it's freezing, the parallel lines of sleds that have etched temporary tracks in the land as representations of the distance that once separated those who created them (but does no longer).  

Spring would be the first sprout of the season persevering through the darkness of the soil and finally pushing through the light at the end to feel the warmth of the sun upon it, a bridge the connects flower-covered hills that houses the memory of two lovers who reunited after being apart for the winter, the daisy that he planted beneath her chest the night that he told her he loved her and promised to always water it.