Autumn was her fleeting guest,

That would glide over her pristine frame,

It creeped on her like Satan’s vigilante,

After her eyes cried monsoons till her tears dampened her breasts.

He was cold and indelicate towards her last lost love,

He ravished her like an aroused stranger,

He dessicated her soul.

She would lay there parched, as for warmth she would starve.

 

Along came the handsome Winter, fair, brooding and grave.

She closed her arms and unsolicited his glacial presence.

As Winter walked, close behind him, gleaming and beaming, Joy followed, in small, rollicking steps,

Joy was jolly as he was welcomed with carols, lights, gifts and smiles on every face.

Winter walked and walked, no smile, no countenance,

Joy soon got tired of winter’s long stroll and left.

Winter soon noticed the wretched dame,

He slowly touched her hands as delicately as he could,

She cringed and flinched as he withdrew hesitantly soon,

The sun boisterously disgraced this unnatural union,

Though they were happily watched over by the moon.

Her yellow skin altered it’s hue, it now turned pale, so pale.

Winter repented his cursed touch, crying frozen tears of snow.

For a man so cold could not touch a beauty with love, his affections were accursed to fail.

He promised to stay till Summer’s messenger arrived and preserve her numb cadaver.

Winter held her tight, her features soon began to perish,

“When would Summer’s messenger arrive?”, He did not know.

Dressed in colourful garb, radiating summer’s pleasant warmth,through the dead land came Spring.

Winter felt her delicate structure warming up, he felt the warmth of her enticing breath.

Winter smiled and melted away, no more to her frame could he cling.

Spring picked her up and dressed her in beautiful garb, sprayed Summer’s essence and blossomed her head with a flowery wreath.

She was bright and beautiful again, fresh and fragrant too,

Longing for the return of Summer, her love, she had already waited too much.

The wait made her heart rise and fall beneath her once cold breasts, now warm with the gaiety that brew.

Somewhere, she, Nature, missed Winter’s inscrutable, unconditional affection,

Secretly coveting his piercing, yet doting touch.

Priyanshu Bharadwaj

Advertisements