Seasons

Like seasons passing, It starts off spring. Butterflies in the stomach, soft, gentle, cool. Hinting at something Lingering in the air. A brush of hands, still shy as it forms. Come summer, Hot, bright, fiery. Excitement gone with the hot red thrill taking over the gentle. Heated kisses, constant touching, always present, no space between, even if they dare. In comes fall, Light wind, soft touches. The sky lights with new discoveries as uncertainty simmers honeymoons gone, as the spark flies. Winter brings the end, Cold, angry, iced out. Distance grows, uncertainty gone, dissatisfaction taking control. This is not what we want... It's not what we deserve... This isn't what we're worth. It ends in winter unhappy and long overdue. Goodbyes pass as they outgrow, and everything once admirable, becomes the source of irritation. The final goodbye that rolls the credits.