You were autumn,
Your words, covered in
Leaves that sing along
To the gushing
Gales, of an orange glow.

You flowered still,
You grew the most dashing
Tulips, outside my windowsill;
The wind, wailing,
Wafting a sound: "spring"

You were summer,
The way sand strikes against
My eyes, lessening the glimmer,
That I saw from your angst;
You were the sun's winter.

Suddenly, you were winter,
Covered in icy trails of snow,
Your heart locked its inner;
No warmth, no more glow
That I can decipher.

You were all of the seasons,
Impermanent, imperfect;
Cold, hot, winds in songs;
"You will leave," I detect,
Waiting for another winter, spring, summer, and autumn.