Four Seasons

Scrambled pieces that make up
this jumbled puzzle
hanging upon the wall with
the sad portrait of summer.

 

The storm wills a thick fog, and
I shuffle towards the hazy south,
brewing with the tempest of
unfathomable logic.

 

Just like the egocentric wind.
Just like the unyielding trees.
Just like the beaming sun.

 

The raindrops kiss the ground,
whispering extravagant promises.
I believed these saturated words like
the leaves changing colors in autumn.

 

I search for the lost child,
who ran away from this race.
Seeking refuge in the trees,
isolated from the light.

 

Weeping in the dark;
hiding from the moonbeam.
Lovely tears cascade like
a majestic waterfall.

 

The shards of glass stained with blood.
Muffled screams the shakes the night.
The owl wants to howl,
and the wolf whistles like a maniac.

 

The winter blows an eternal slumber.
A white cloudburst�"jets of snow, falling.
The wind is bitter; it creeps from my
skin, puncturing my bones with its frigid edge.

 

And the night was still.
Snowflakes, soft and innocent, painted
the pitch-black canvas.
As if the moon shined with purity.

 

So the dawn comes,
and the ground wipes its tears.
The snow goes away,
leaving with the traces of deceit.

 

The flowers delicately bloom,
and the sun reigns, beating the moon.
Wretched affairs stay with the night
and the winter long gone.

 

The spring smiles over the
lifeless eyes, a blank vortex�"
Painted within the portrait,
all the loneliness of the sun.

Author's Note

something i wrote in class last school year