A poem exploring the seasons.
I’m listening to sky
As colors paint across clouds, blurring
The boundaries of spaces between. The gaps
Between my thoughts grow as I transition
Into feeling. My heart is asking,
“Can anyone else smell the seasons?”
Sometimes it’s seeing the tabebuia trees; other times
It’s the smell of fresh earth. Spring is a wet and warm invitation
To dance. A reminder of birth, and that living
Doesn’t always mean alive. I love
The things that are so predictably good in this world.
Forgetting isn’t bad,
Like taking for granted. How can one ever feel alone? Oblivious,
Maybe. Like the nostalgia of summer, gone
Just long enough for you to forget— a long lost love
Letter, leading you back to light as days grow.
And just like you are temporary, the leaves will
Fall, creating space for air to blow you
Kisses. The sound of wind tastes like honey, and
We all want hands to hold. It never mattered to me
What we were celebrating; I only wanted to feel
Like a present being opened up for the first time.