#oh the woe of finding a person who SO CLEARLY personifies the season you love most

[slxthserenade]

Spring passes just as quickly as it approached, right inbetween my fingers, yet the ink still runs through the quill’s end as surely as the blood in my veins.

In just two months. June’s end. Where will we be ? Are you yet another fleeting spring to be quietly added onto my shelf, left to collect dust ? Yet another fleeting spring, to wordlessly line the seventeen others beside it ? Spitefully ornate collection.

Yet another spring. Is it you ? Is it me ? Is there such a thing as us ? The questions are endless and poetry has run its course. After all, what are words to the only one who has left me speechless ? How do I return to quill’s sharp cold when your warmth still lingers on my hand ?

I know, I ask for what’s not mine. Selfishly, I ask for your image not to fade from my mind, for my verses not to lose their colour. Even more selfishly, I ask for you to stay. It isn’t an eternal spring I yearn for, no. It’s to see you by my side, to see how summer lights up the brown of your hair, how the December frost colours your cheeks red, how the autumn wind makes your eyes close. How spring and all its shades decorate your hair, as I place flowers on your pretty waves.