Collection 1.8 *Seasons through Me*

Grief is the four seasons of the year,

Changing its colors by the month.

Fall is the hardest,

Transitioning from the best days to the worst.

Not knowing what to expect.

A warm and sunny day?

Or a cold and dreary week?

The leaves start to turn orange signifying them dying,

Just like you did on that October day.

The winter is cold and my heart aches with it.

The snow covers the ground,

While desolation blankets my mind.

The hard wind of memories whistles at my door

And the long lasting chilled months seem endless.

Then there is spring.

Where showers of my tears fall unexpectedly.

But I begin to feel again.

The warmth of happiness dances on my skin

When the sun shines lightly.

The trees turn green and regrow their leaves,

While I regrow my strength.

Summer rolls in and the heat of the day is exhilarating.

The days are long and pleasant,

I can think of you and smile.

Memories are light and funny and I can name off more than one.

It hardly rains and the colors of the sunset bring peace to my thoughts.

I look into the oranges and reds and know that you are in a better place.