seasons

I don't think it's true

that time heals all wounds - 

you can try and forget

but with each season that passes

she will be there.

The delicate scent

of her petal perfume

will linger on the air

in the Spring - 

she is more abloom than ever now,

her new beginnings

awakening things you never could

her pastel palette

always so washed out beside you

now brighter than ever

vibrant and vernal and

finally thriving.

Her eyes will be reflected

in the glistening, breathtaking blue

of the ocean in the Summer

and you will remember the dizzying heat

of her hand in yours

as you gaze out

to find where the sea meets the sky

the waves will break

and so will you.

You will see the auburn of her hair

in vivid Autumn leaves - 

they will remind you of the way

she would curl herself into you 

bristling against the chill

smelling of pumpkin spice and bonfire smoke

ever changing 

but always looking like

the comfort you craved.

And you always knew

she had ice in her veins

like the winter - 

you will watch the snow fall and realise that she, too

was unique

mesmerising

would melt at your touch 

but she was never cold to you;

she was the welcome heat

of an open fire

you were afraid to get too close to

in case you found

you liked the way she burned.