NATURE Poem: wish you weren’t my favorite season, by Sam Wiseberg

if i can argue that spring is better for our feelings,
then i can argue that you are better for mine.
mud-ridden feet spreading seed,
let us dance on growing fields.
and when we are tired,
let us lie on wet grass
that has never looked so green.
brush to interlock,
find lonely hands once cold.
renew us of life,
renew us of chance.
she graces me freckles for you to count,
flowers for you to bring,
and songbirds to harmonize
with chords that you strum.
longer days for us to dance,
and longer days for us to lay.
though i bathe in her sunlight,
i am warmest with you,
because the sun is not as giving
as you are with your coat.

but just like spring,
you are graced by its temporary.
feelings evanescent,
they change with the seasons.
sweaty palms irritate hands that hold,
straw dried grass once green,
heat rash, bugs and burns.
when did our plans become obligations
and when did her sunshine dim?
flowers you walk past,
no longer amazed by their strife.
my freckles ever present,
still await your recount.
tired are the birds who used to sing,
tired are you of me.
in the frenzy of summer
the carcass of spring rots.
remains of you.
remains of us.
spring is better for our feelings,
but you are not better for mine.

Author: poetryfest

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