Seasons

In summer breeze,

With pen possessed of love and light,

A letter is left for you,

Of tender thoughts from dreaming eyes,

So under the flowering tree you read,

Your stoic self summoning within me unbearable suffering,

With my love carried on the wings of Icarus,

You rise,

My letter falling from your graceful hand,

Like discarded autumn leaves,

Their colours washed away,

The warm wind playing,

In innocent joy,

As the winter of my love begins.