Beginnings spawn
ends,
And ends
beginnings.
Ahh, the first taste of spring!
Heavy on the tongue like fresh dew on a blade of grass.
The vigour of a flower,
As it shakes off the months of inertia,
And shyly strips away its inhibitions,
To present its radiant face again.
The innocent pursuits of a childhood spent,
In make believe and imagination.
To watch a child grow,
And yet stay pure at heart.
To experience the joy of a love brand new,
The flutter of an eyelid, the way the hips sway,
And that first brush of the lips – emotions soar like an
eagle.
Like waking up from a long dark dream,
To find the sun shining again,
Hesitant at first, as if it too is trying to remember
how,
And then more confidently each passing day.
The others take the hint,
And wake from fitful slumbers.
The clouds, they wink at everyone,
And let loose a playful drizzle,
A sign of things to come…
Ahh, the rich bounty of summer!
Clinging to the skin, warming us without and within.
The world a riot of colour,
Dazzling and bewitching in its intensity.
Show-offs, the lot of them,
Flaunting their tempting bodies to birds and bees alike,
Beckoning them to their succulent hidden treasures.
The child is ever growing,
A little wiser in the ways of the world now,
Yet, its spirit undampened by the demands made of him,
Taking it all in his stride, like the king of the world.
The love too has blossomed and grown,
Comfort found in time spent together,
And fonder it grows in the absence of the other.
The dream now forgotten, he shines with all his might,
Driving the night back with his strength.
He is just the tip of the iceberg,
For, with his heat, he leaves them all exuberant,
Drunk on his light, and celebrating
The excesses of life.
Those irreverent white fluffs of cotton,
Hanging forever from invisible hooks,
And unleashing their harvest,
Drowning the world in a torrent of life.
They’ve climbed up to the summit, but it’s a long way
down…
Ahh, the sighs heaved for autumn!
Waves and waves of wistfulness flow through the blood.
Shedding the cool, damp shades of green,
For temperamental reds and somber yellows.
And one by one falling,
Dancing to a tune upon the fickle breeze.
A man now in the prime of life,
But bogged down by cynicism and disdain.
His joys now found in the confines of a clear glass,
Swishing around its golden contents,
Around a melting glacier,
A paradox of fire and ice.
Love’s embrace has now grown cooler,
From lifetime spent in warm content,
The memories of a burning fire,
Dying like embers on the pyre,
Ashes in their wake.
Dreams rear their hypnotic heads once more,
From somewhere deep within,
Harbingers of sorrowful days; the sun
Once more fades as the hours march on.
His sleepy eyes infectious,
They yawn as one, as if preparing,
For mass ritual hibernation.
Wrap yourselves warmly, for the air grows chill…
Ahh, the biting fangs of winter!
Sinking their venom through pale blue veins.
Lying naked in the wind, their skeletons exposed,
Waltzing to a haunting melody,
The long dark years tattooed on their flesh,
Deep cuts that bleed nothing at all.
Time always takes its toll,
He feels the weariness in his bones,
As he ponders on the illusion of life
And the stark reality of a dead eternity.
The ache grows stronger, throbbing and dull,
But it will soon pass; and then peace forevermore.
Hands clasped, they gaze into each other’s old grey eyes,
Reading the messages in faint reflections;
But curtains close across one pair,
The grip weakens, the hand goes limp,
And salty, bitter tears glaze the other.
A tide of fond nostalgia and remembrance rises.
Eyes shut, he slips into a world,
Of dreams and fancies once more,
Waking occasionally but not quite awake,
Faint glimmers shining through his half open eyes.
The glimpses of a bleak, lifeless world,
Imprinting themselves on the canvas of his mind.
Sleep well, for dawn shall beckon soon…
They ride upon the
crests and troughs of life,
Each day, each
month, each year,
One may come and
one may go,
But it’s all the
same in the end.
