We met in the spring,
when everything beautiful begins,
like flowers breaking through the earth
only to fade making room for something new.
In summer, we grew
but not together
like plants reaching in different directions
bound by the same soil beneath.
By autumn, we drifted apart
like leaves falling from trees,
each going its own path.
In winter, we didn't meet at all,
and it wasn’t the cold that kept us apart.
Nearly two years have passed,
moving through every season,
a cycle of meeting and parting,
not always together,
but always returning,
endless as the seasons.
