Seasonal Affections
You're a spring type of love.
Everything is new,
From the way you make me smile
Like I never have before,
And how I now laugh until
My eyes are filled with tears and
My face turns red.
You're the tiny leaves finally sprouting
After months of ice,
The crisp refreshing crunch as the last snow
Of the year breaks under my boot,
The wonder-filled birds so eager to sing
That they cannot wait until the sun to rise,
And the feeling of taking off your shoes
To dip a toe into the chilled water.
You're the anticipation of better things to come.
You're an autumn type of love.
Everything is warm,
Despite the cold.
From your assuring smile
To my tears running down my face,
Being cooled by the breeze,
Falling onto your shirt as you hug me.
You're the color orange,
The smell of pumpkin spice,
The click and rattles of the radiator at night,
The scent of impending snow in the air,
Cozy boots and over-sized sweaters,
Being wrapped in a blanket
With the one you love as you share a cup of coco.
You're earlier sunsets, giving rise to an earlier day.
You're the crunch of a colorful burial ground
As the last remnants of summer fall under my shoes.
You're the comfort that heals things past.
You're a winter type of love.
Everything is gone,
And seems like it will never be again.
Perhaps it never was.
From the way you tell me you care to
The way you hug me, there is something missing.
You're the endless nights
And the too-short days.
You're the snow that falls yet another time,
Blinding and bitter.
You're beautiful in your own right,
God you're so beautiful.
There's nothing I'd like more than to sit
By the window with a cup of tea
And watch as the snow just falls
And blankets the world,
Making everything disappear.
But you'll never be a summer love,
The affection I wish we shared.
You'll never be long days and short nights,
Walls on the beach with a beer in one hand
And my fingers wrapped around the other.
You'll never be scorching sand that burns our feet
As we scramble into the nippy sea.
You'll never be bonfires as the sun sets,
Sand everywhere, bad tans, or sun-kissed hair,
Making love in the shadows as the burning wood
Of a nearby barbecue rides on the winds to us.
We can have the excitement of spring,
You can be the comfort of autumn,
And I will have the loneliness of winter,
Because we don't have the passion of summer.
In a season defined by a dream-like wonder,
I am faced with one reality:
That no matter how much
I care
Or dream
Or try
Or love,
There will only be you and me,
And never us.