Wet, Wilted

WET, WILTED



AND JOY abounding like flowers in the springtime,
wet roadside on a warm May night,
and her, beside me, soft so sweet

NIGHT rides victorious on the heels of day, retreating
The last light lingered on her lips, then void. stop.
and creeping, so close, so very close inside

NOW cool November and all the trees are on fire
Trying desperately to ward off winter with flames
The first wayward winds whip wanton snowflakes

BEFORE mad January tightens his icy grip
around mother nature's jugular, frost bitten in death,
staring at her world through algid obsidian eyes

 

Some great images here, for sure; but it just hangs, like you got sick of writing so you just stopped.