Season

The month was January,
The winter, slowly fading in my life,
Pleasant evening walks,
On the fields of pasqueflowers,

The month was February,
And the birth of my new found joy,
All was well until the final bell,
And I was made to look like a puppet, a toy,

The month was March,
My best friend’s wedding,
Forgotten memories, and an inflated ego,
There I went, uninvited, rigmarole,

The month was April,
A thought of a new beginning,
Washed away by the winds of desire,
Was too close to the funeral pyre,

The month was May,
My true love’s birthday,
Always hung a heavy heart,
Never got off to a good start,

The month was June,
When it ended all too soon,
Drenched and pained,
This time, it only rained,

The month was July,
Realized Emily could only lie,
A lapse of season,
Emerged uncut and brazen,

The month was August,
The showers of misery seemed unstoppable,
This time, the winds of desire – a gust,
Only to find there was no wind beneath my wings,

The month was September,
This day that year, was born,
A Sunday child, who knew no fear,
Yours truly, my dear,

The month was October,
The mother of this life,
Was like a warm clothing,
In this setting of the early winter,

The month was November,
The rain of misery continued,
The teeth chattering in the cold nights – Brr…
Was it my mind, or the feud?

The month was December,
Life was freezing,
Hibernated in the labyrinth of my mind,
And dreamt of the fields of pasqueflowers