My love blossomed in Spring
In rocky soil
No promise to grow
Perhaps a bit
Over hasty

But grow it did
Surviving the blistering Summer
When the cicadas hum
And the heat smacks
Like an angry woman

My Autumn was brief
I did not see
The leaves turning to their fire
The warnings of red, orange, brown

Someone else cared for my plant
The flower that should be mine
Alone

The Winter goes on
Barren and empty
The harsh wind knifing through
My little garden

My flower
No longer mine

I sit on my stone bench
Waiting for the snow
To finally abate
And another seed
To drift in
Upon the gentle breeze
Of the new Spring

Where I shall plant again
To grow the flower once more

To hope that cruel Winter
Unforgiving and cold
Never comes again