Come Seasons Come
nothing worth loving lives forever,
shivering blades of grass scythed by the grim wind,
flickering leaves are embers fizzling into the eastward
gale,
wilting wallflowers tilting into a soil grave.
Come Seasons Come
everything eventually folds into the ground,
bleak whispering grave nights,
biting sheath of air,
hallow moon looming like a lonely island.
Come Seasons Come
I’ll weep when you pass me by,
sly stalking grey,
bare branches reaching high for that ice sun,
knowing time’s hands are peeling me away.
