The seasons are my undoing.
They make of me a fickle lover.
I see Autumn's face
in every face I see
And I am overcome.
I cannot recall the look of Spring
that held my fancy
in the soft kiss of a quiet rain last April.
All that was put aside
when first I felt the sweet, fresh
breath of Fall
my latest love,
yet, most likely, not my last.
For it is the way of vagrant hearts
to trade one enchantment for another
to hold one for a little while
before the search begins
for one that will replace it.
But for now, I will let Autumn's
charms caress me,
Before December's snows will part us.
Then I'll forget his face
as I forgot the face of April
when first I felt October's kiss.