Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry. (W.B. Yeats) Here lies that which is inside no more, that which burns my mind and must be expelled. Here lies the greatest of all inventions. Here lies words.
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
The Seasons
06/05/2020 - Iso Well-Being Compilation
You are cold like the winter,
Aloof and indifferent,
Making you hard to read
And keeping me at arm’s length.
You run hot like summer months,
Easy to anger,
Firey and unpredictable,
And I am running scared.
You’re warm like springtime,
Wrapping me in your arms,
Telling me everything will be ok
And I am drawn in all over again.
You are cool as an autumn breeze,
Hinting at what’s to come,
So tantalizingly calm,
But I have to get away.
Labels:
autumn,
Daily poetry,
Iso Poetry,
Poetry,
relationship,
spring,
summer,
The Seasons,
winter,
writing
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