A Seasonal Love
I loved him in a Summer's breeze,
though Summer ripened into Fall.
His Winter arms, a cooler squeeze,
a chill became an April squall.
A season's moment left ungrasped.
I thought of love, but love is blind.
Its daydreams easily unclasped.
Untended, quickly they unwind.
He left in Summer, with no glance;
his mythful "white horse" ran away.
My heart, he nicked with paper lance.
I can't recall his face today.
Promises penned in Summer's air
are lost as they waft everywhere.
March 20, 2023
for "A Simple Poetry Contest" poetry contest
by John Lawless
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