When first we met it was winter
for a time I was cold and bare…
and my ice covered hands yielded no welcoming.
You smiled for me and with it came the Spring.
Warmth in that image,
And melting and mending,.. The change.
Your kiss burned, it must’ve been Summer.
So pure, inviting, renewing…
Like dangerous fire.
You gave yourself to me like Autumn,
layers shed one-by-one,
the colors fell and told of what sustenance you’d bare for me
should I dare pluck the fruit from your branches.
Now, I fear the return of winter,
the ice that surrounds in time.
I’ve seen Summer. I know your light.
I will not fret…
Our seasons work their powers upon me
in the form of your gentle hands.