Insurmountable Distance

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Poem about unrequited love as seen through the seasons.

 

I feel your pain in your words

the words you throw at me from a distance

I cannot reach you through the miles

and the years

between us.

 

A younger version of

yourself

remembers a time

we could have had

if only

we had known each other

at the same season of our lives.

 

You wear your years

like a cloak in summer

unnecessarily obvious,

and obviously out of place

amongst the youthful glow

of the summer sun

with its heat and lack of

respectable concern for

matters of seriousness.

 

You are in the summer of your mind

while aged well into the winter of your years.

 

And I have been hardened

into an early autumn

through the pain and the loss of the

leaves from my heart’s tree.

 

It bloomed too soon

bringing forth the fruit of love

for another

whose season was too short,

like the false spring

when Imbolc is bright and fair

and the groundhog sees his shadow.

 

Now it bears no fruit,

lies dormant

awaiting the first frost

when with the winter

I may find some comfort in the

arms of a lover,

one

who has known the ache

of a barren growing season,

where the drought of love

has destroyed the harvest so

that even the water pouring

forth from my eyes

cannot produce a single fruit.

 

Each passing day brings another glint of silver

in my hair

as I choose the winter,

I choose the cold,

the dead time,

my heart embracing the frost

to become naught more

but a lump of cold and ice.

 

This path I choose

places miles and years

further and further between us

and I feel the pain,

your pain,

but it cannot thaw my soul.

 

Your summer sun is no match for my wintry heart.

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