Season's Jilting

Waves froth and churn, imbuing a vigor
the cold floor does not share.
His youth escaped first, diving
again, over the threshold.  

A weary ode to past purple summers
the bruised sun sets holding her lover’s stare.
His neck gave out then, craning
from the weight of his bottled world.

So winter came to claim another
as he forgot his age and the seasons they bear.
Sushing her cries, they rushed her away. Fleeing
from that specter of the once-drowned.

In his morning, he broke to nothing but clouds.
Those tithes were never kind. Teetering,
his world capsized. Towards no star could he steer.
Sailing her veiled wake with shame and broken rudder.

“Wake me from this dream!” The lucid bemoaned.
“Stay, stay here!” Stumbling,
towards the horizon. He called for her luster.
Now beyond the ocean, her glow would warm him no longer.

He will feel that loss, remembering he had been shed,
time and time again. Reaching
for current pains to quench elder fears.
In a world of black and white, the blue he saw offered no shelter.