you're my spring, my summer, my autumn-fall-winter, and these are the love letters from my little white soul

i am writing, dear to tell you

that you’re my spring,
my summer,
my fall

you are 
my winters 
and the splinters

that bind me so much better

than the silky-glue you
try to use to mend
my aching soul

when all i need,
from you, my love
is the chance to grow old

with you 
on a little farm
in a cottage we 
built from sticks

with two children
(i’ll convince you)
and a flock of hens
to lay eggs for our
breakfast toast 

and i’ll love you
through all our seasons

and though the day burns
down to a chill,

i won’t stop loving you
until the world ends

because you’re all my seasons
and i’m your moon 

The End

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