Seasons of the Heart

When love came to me it was not soft like a spring rain;
Rather it was fierce and frightening like a bolt of black lighting.

No poem or movie could have prepared me for the passion that whipped into my winter stark life, like summers deep inferno burning me in unrelenting heat.

When he kissed me it was the cracking of ice; the breaking of stone; the prick of every thorn.

I who had never known love, who thought such a soft feeling beyond my iron guarded heart, now weep tears of sunlight and shadow.

How short our time, how fleeting the spring of our love will be;
How everlasting the devastation of him will be. A tornado, a hurricane, gale force winds to my silk soul.

I walk in falls cool riot of disarray, waiting for winters first kiss to come again my way; to freeze solid my now beating heart, to crystallize my tears to diamonds; for lichen to grown upon my stone limbs.

To wait and wait again.