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| Photo by NordWood Themes on Unsplash |
Okay, here I go.
After a year, I'm sitting at the table,
Resting my hands on the keyboard
In the hope that this time
I'll write a poem on you
With all those emotions I have had
In the past four seasons.
But to my utmost tragedy,
I am here without one.
Spring didn't tell me
How to praise your beauty
Summer didn't cast light
On my barren mind.
I would be a wordsmith
And write like a prolific poet
But Autumn didn't shed to me
A single leaf of word.
I would compare you with the mountains
And tell you how beautiful you are.
But I couldn't admire the mountains
For it didn't snow enough this winter.
I'm here a year later
With no poem again.
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