poetry, — how does it feel...

By
about the seven seasons are in you
and each of them is filled
with feelings and their thrills
‧
thereby, —
in spring, you're a zephyr…
(first glance, first kiss, first ecstasy)
‧
the summer is
the burning love of yours
‧
when autumn comes
the bedding gets a fix
‧
it's winter when
you're freezing me with your gaze
‧
amnesia appears to be from you...,
the coldest season felt
‧
and yet, more intimate and
more involved, it is the season
when we meet in dainty fancy
of a poetry, —  how does it feel...
(…as you can see, —
you're unpredictability)

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