It’s the seismic shifting of the seasons that does me in

Slight alteration in the dappling of sunlight hitting my skin

Every year; a boon of productivity and creativity

Until I reach for the match again

And then the leaves burst into flames

Red, yellow, orange all calling my name

It would be so wrong not to stare in awe

But then I reach for the match again

And in the dead of winter, I shiver

It gets harder and harder to linger

So, I make my own fire and funeral pyre

And reach for the match once again

And finally, spring makes me scream

And year after year I always bleed

On the fresh roses blooming red

And so I light the match once again

By Slyvia Rose

From: United States

Websitehttps://slyviarose.weebly.com

Instagram: sylvia_plath_am

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/aimie.mcallester/