I sought you during winter,
winter when the snow stuck to the ground ,
wanting your transient presence to linger.
I sought you during summer,
summer when the fiery yellow sphere was at its glory,
seeking reassurance, through your voice's gentle murmur.
I sought you during the rain,
the rain when the heavens were pouring down,
seeking deliverance from refuted love's pain.
I sought you during the spring,
spring when all of creation is elated,
but of your evasion of me, even the flowers sing.
But then when you sought me,
I was the one to elude,
undeceived by former memory.
And never shall such a time come,
during all seasons of the year,
when I return to where my erstwhile lover 's from.
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Moral of the story: Avoid seasonal love.
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Puisi#14 on 8 March 2017 Poetry, Prose. Words bled from the very soul. Musings of an occasional poetess. 'Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words. It is an abstract art, and I am, but a mere artist ' - Edgar Allan Poe ©wordalmaniac 2016