They look like the summer sky at midday
dotted with lazy summer clouds,
or perhaps like the arctic frost in spring
as it sheds from winter’s grasp.
Yet without the warmth of your coy smile
or the hymn in your flowered voice
I can’t shake that the icy glare you’ve got
means lonely nights for me ahead.
Which makes me think to Vivaldi’s Seasons:
that in your eyes I can find life.
That I can find the fresh roots of new spring
and summertime jingles that birdies sing
mixed in with the faded red leaves of fall
before winter comes to bury it all.
And that hidden beneath these vibrant songs
is the love you held for me all along.
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