Different seasons written as different types of people.
Spring
I find myself between the pages of green covered books and in patches of daisies.
When I look in the mirror I see my wings before I see my face.
Imaginative mind, creative spirit, connections that flow like the river.
I write poetry inside my head. I am a mind before I am a body.
Talk idealistically, tell me about your dreams and desires, tell me about what a perfect world would look like.
My spirit cannot be taken from me.
I will find the art wherever I go, I'll paint on the walls of my prison cell if needed.
I am the moss flowing in the river, I am the flower blooming in the concrete, I am a mushroom growing from the dead.
Summer
I shined like the sun, I want nothing more in this life than to love and be loved.
Tell me what fills you with joy, tell me what breaks you, tell me anything in everything about what it means to be you.
I spend my days swimming in rivers and sitting on picnic blankets.
I value connection more than anything, hug me tightly, I told you close.
I can be found buying gifts, even when it's not your birthday.
Look for me in the sunrise.
I think human existence is a spiritual one, and the most divine thing we can do is know each other inside out.
I may have grown taller, but I have not grown up.
I am the warmth of the sun, I am the marigolds growing in your backyard, I am the heart pumping in your chest.
Autumn
I am in constant transformation, I am myself when the leaves change to an auburn shade and fall to the ground, I am myself when my flowers bloom.
I am hot cocoa in front of a campfire, I am moments of laughter, I am sunlit and golden smiles.
Find what fills you and chase it, a life well lived is a life of great passion.
I am everything I wasn't yesterday.
I wish to grow my branches in many directions.
Tell me about what makes you feel like yourself, tell me about how you weren't this way last year.
I am everchanging.
I am the cycle of the seasons, I am a book filled with contradicting statements, I am two opposing statements with equal amounts of truth.
Winter
I am a collection of scrapbooks and old diaries.
I collect moments and memories held together by string.
Tell me about the sunniest day you've ever had, tell me about the worst day of your life.
How did it shape you? How does it shape me?
I want to experience it all, I'll walk through hell, I'll dance in the clouds, just for the fun of it.
What does it mean to be like you? Let me try it on for a little while. How do I look with my face painted like yours?
What more could I want in life then to have a life worth remembering?
YOU ARE READING
Sincerely October
PoetryThis poetry book was written having multiple narratives, lots of happiness and healing, lots of aching and low points. I choose the title "sincerely October" to capture being authentic.
