An Autumn breeze
is not the flighty winsome tease she was in Spring
she has experience to bring and is more certain
collecting up the fallen leaves
to weave them through October's curtain

I don't do seasons.

What's the point?
Mother Nature pays no attention
anymore - no adherence
to long established norms.
Unreliable, like the rest.
Incomprehensible at best.

So why bother?
Why consider
this season's wardrobe?
Why plan life around the calendar,
when you need any-weather clothes?

So I don't do seasons.
I don't do disappointment.
I don't do expectations.
I just plan for the unplanned
and weather the summer storms.

I'm a man for no seasons.

Who knew
There's an emotion
Where
Even happiness could ache..
Well,
Now it defines happy tears.

I want to live and die,
Not hesitate and die.

Sombre heaven, you look just right in pink
Clothed and cloaked, silken limbs of ancient lore
Everything droops round the drape of your lace
My eyes stumbling lurking, running, returning

I will - I could take anything miniscule
Bare minimum, pitiful, pathetic, muggy
Bitter rain - but you refuse to yield, just like me
Is this why our touch fails so simply?
Because we're too similar for revolution?
Defeat has me nauseous, mildly in love

Sweet, sharp, a little painful, a little blue
You leave no scent when gliding by

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, well
It surely means that I don’t know

When his eyes don't light up anymore on seeing you

Even the most beautiful flower
must carry the curse to wilt
and even in its dying hour
new life upon it is built.

No longer will it grace our eyes,
but through death it is still giving.
A new purpose is served through it's demise:
the chance to nourish the living.

To choose between destruction and life when you are cheated