Turn

The trees drop their petals like unwanted baggage, The tired luggage of a recent journey, And the soft pinks and whites litter the ground, Carnage. Destruction. Springtime has been torn from the branches, Heat smothers like a pillow. Wind ripping, tearing the world at the seams. Here sinks the summer, there Goes the spring. When Winter left, she left me flying- Like a bird, or a song, I soared above What I suffered under the overcast sky. I shone. The sun thawed the casing Of ice that trapped me. When Winter left, I sang. I sang with the trees, but now, I sing to the fallen. A bitter lament. A selfish one. I do not mourn for the petals That are strewn across my path, Only for the fragrance that is carried away on the breeze, For the passion that the sight of those rosy clouds Inspired in me. Gone, now. Gone.