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renseksderf Jun 5
When your winter breaks into spring
think of new and wonderful things

while autumn creeps passed your window
break this winter free of sorrow

wait upon seasons - wait on life
live each day loving - escaping

weave each day's new strands - engaging
one day looking back - mem'ries rife.
Millie Mar 9
An ice cube
Poured into the mold of least resistance
Slowly Frozen
Complacently numb
What is this dripping?
Searing pain as I begin to unthaw
Discomfort as I spill over
Emotions long forgotten barge in expecting welcomes
How foreign they look
And yet
I feel warm
Jenovah Feb 18
Crisp air; the burn of Winter
Can be felt deep within
My lungs

A hazy sky keeps me grey
Keeps me melancholy
The sun out of sight
Keeps me stagnant

I yearn to be lit up again

If only I could find
The fire inside me…

…But I’ve yet to learn how
dealing with seasonal depression
I've got the January blues,
The Monday heaviness,
A kind of Tuesday Sadness.
I've got the Wednesday empties,
The Thursday lonelies,
And a Friday full of Madness.
Saturdays are cold and grey
While Sundays seem to slip away,
And the week recycles into blandness.
Erian Rose Nov 2021
mid-afternoon sunrays beam
against the blanketed city snow,
your miles away this December
wishing on the same falling stars.

Saturday trains murmur dusk-cascaded gleam
you're across the Atlantic shore
seasonal depression combating
last-second windswept bliss

unfinished song-writes seem
inkless on half-folded paper airplanes
for hidden chances and empty truths
lone twilight in streetlights mold
Anais Vionet Oct 2021
Happy pumpkin spice latte season!

Someone said the leaves had turned
to butterscotch, banana, and lemon
but they don’t taste right.
I love everything pumpkin spice
Aparna Jun 1
rain fell, in leaps and bounds
and you dissolved with the last of summer days
...
morseismyjam Jun 2021
Summer fills me with nostalgia in a way that I cant explain. But when the air hears up and the black ants crawl all over our house I find myself remembering when we covered the window with sheets so we could sleep when it was still light.

Most years I was alone, friends not good enough to contact outside of school.
I stayed up late in bed reading every night. It was during summer that I stumbled on my first podcast, on my first ****** novel, on my first question of gender.
In the heat of summer I sought change. Alone, I struggled with questions of college and career and the future. I despaired, sobbing into my pillow until I fell asleep.

Summer is full of possibility, of the past, of the future.
I caught fireflies out on the lawn, I put cicada husks in a jar and kept a tally, I invented games for myself and my sisters. I work late nights and come home to a warm house. I eat cereal for 3 meals a day.
The rules don't apply to Summer.
Susan N Aassahde May 2021
noon bell
for rain of pinks
old stereo
Simon Apr 2021
Intuition at it's finest when feeling the seasonal changing of its metamorphosis is coming ahead. A foreseeing truthful measure of action (over the wonder of its own inevitable evolution).
Feeling of observance is nothing without attitude (in it's very self to bear alone), when it's never alone... Except, when all in not well within its favor, because that's when things change in the way it's ought to be. And not because it's an entire consequence (all on its own little lonesome), without truthfully knowing of the very actions that surmise the difficulties straight out from under its own opposable..."developing pleasures!"
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