By Connor Peters
I bloom and I wither
as you come and go.
I sway in the wind
as you pace to and fro.
I crave your presence
like the new fallen rain.
And I crave your touch
like the sun’s warm rays.
At first our love was like Spring,
lively, young, unsuspecting.
It heated into the peak of Summer,
passionate, certain, unyielding.
It solidified in the crisp air of Fall,
only to not last at all.
Now that it is Winter,
I’m cold and withered.
Without sunshine, without rain,
I’ve begun to shiver.
My shivering has shaken my petals,
but my petals have given way to resolve.
Maybe it was meant to be,
this love that did not last at all.