From ominous Winter,

who spends the dim conclusion to the year alone,

as she yearns for a sense of Summer’s true warmth,

rather than waxy fireplaces and stinging numbness.

Thinking if she waited enough evenings,

surely she will meet him as the sun rises.

Genuinely love.

Then tender Spring,

who smells of light-hearted and jubilant air,

dances in Autumn’s vibrant tears.

Despite seeming happy,

she cannot be until all of Autumn’s red sadness revives,

asking for nothing in return. 

Unconditionally love.

To buoyant Summer,

who scorches to see Winter’s pale beauty

and the glittering snow only heard about from Spring.

In rash attempt, due to his impatience for reaching her,

he shortens the nights needed to wait.

Passionately love.

Finally, dwindling Autumn who bathes in sufferings of remorse and heartbreak,

His bitter, wallowing surroundings illustrate his emotions.

written in leaves for Spring to read,

despite his wait ending in vain as they mix into the pile of untold tragedies.

Faithfully love.

They outstretch their palms,

while knowing they won’t be filled.

And year after another these four alternate,

yet their patterns of weather never change.

Continually love.