February 10th

August

 

summer wind, heavy, and dimming

whatever glimmer of yourself remained.

Masked as free, the flighty breezes

cost you your identity.

Stuck like sap to burning asphalt,

you have little faith.

 

October

 

The Autumn chill seems to

soft shoe in,

pittering and pattering effortlessly

like Gene Kelly in Summer Stock.

Your cheeks unknowingly ache.

 

December

 

Who knew the cutting winter air could

melt you so easily?

You radiate like an early summer

sun,

fueled by Winter’s refreshing embrace.

 

January

 

You are an eternal white flame.

The moist encasing of the summer air

has dissipated.

You firmly float day in, day out

and see the world through a neon lens.

 

February

 

The rug is pulled out from underneath you,

your head slapping the frozen ground.

all at once reminded of Winter’s harsh intrinsic qualities.

Your flame is blanketed.   

And your cheeks unmistakably burn.

And, suddenly, the Winter wind is

heavy.

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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