I don't often write

I don't often write about the seasons
how the newly budding flowers melt my heart.

I seldom dwell on heat or summer madness,
of how long warm evenings mellow darker thoughts.

Autumnal leaves blow gently over parchment
just like the summer kisses we once shared

and so I dare not speak about the Autumn
for I know that I would cry and that I'm scared.

Winter is so cold and brings the darkness,
within it, misty days and frosty nights,

bringing thoughts of you, my precious lover
and dreams about your sunny face at night.

I don't often write about the seasons
and now I realise why I never do.

It's because with every season comes a memory
and that memory, most often, is of you.

poem by Ruth Walters
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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