In sorrow of Victor

The first flowers of spring
wish for breaking winter's shackle.
I, then, step outside
for a lonely walk,
wishing for your touch,
much as the spring's warmth
surrounds me.
I want to sing of you
as the warblers sing of spring.
Unlike theirs,
my song remains unsung.


The first colors of fall
brings respite from summer's burn.
The cool air and the blue sky
framed by rainbow leaves
make me wish of your vibrance.
Inside me,
the drought of summer singes
and the drab of winter reigns.
Walking in the hues of fall,
I, a blank canvas,
wish of your colors.

--

You surround me,
not touching.
You paint around me,
not coloring.
I walk towards you
in the fall,
in the spring,
with tears dark,
and a mourning song unsung.



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Inspiration came from this.