Minus Season
There are no seasons for you anymore,
since you chose to leave us for death's favor.
No day to await or night to savor.
And so now left to me,
still lips curl a child's bittersweet smile,
April's breath hangs on the orchid's gloom,
but I've no mind to bear such ironic blooms.
And so now left of me,
only shade to labor, hiensight to see.
There are no seasons for me either.
No days to await or nights to savor.
Just a haunted heart that limps to linger.
8/10/15
Copyright © Chad Knight | Year Posted 2015
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