we'll never be the same

meadows in march, the water still and steady;

daisies under picnic blankets. we fall in love,

we don’t think we’ll ever be the same.

flower fields in late july, sweet peas and hydrangeas;

your skin is flushed. honey glazed eyes,

saccharine sweet and evermore.

woodlands in october, shadows dancing;

the milky way and falling stars. you walk ahead,

we’ll never make it home before nightfall.

snowy hills in december, blankets of frost;

we drink baileys in the moonlight because

the sun leaves too soon. i think you will too.

icy roads in january, we can’t keep up;

we fall behind. i talk to mossy statues but

they’re not good listeners. neither are you.

iris blooms in march, but you don’t;

you’re as cold as ever. we fall out of love,

we don’t think we’ll ever be the same.