Seasons

Pavithra Krishnamurthy 8:40am on 24 March 2010

As I lay down
Beside you
In the light of the early dawn
I see the seasons
Etched across your brow.

We started with Spring.
Supple limbs
And lithe embraces
Peppered the spaces
Of our togetherness.

And Autumn
Brought out
The warmest hues.
Patient muse—that slowly withered
Into Winter.

She wrote an embittered tale
Of hardness
And deceit.
Till the shadows
Elongated into

This long hard Summer.
The furrowed, parched brow
Lips sunken in this never ending frown.
Marking a territory
Of worry

Not knowing
Whether the weather
Tomorrow
Will bring us
Another Spring.