Two and a Half Seasons

 

From March, the day of my Father

A season of once known candor

To June, months of willful patience

A season bleeding November

From June, days of dreary hope

A season I may not live through

To September, the day of my own

A season worth living through

Once more the season changes

As I feel the loss of warmth

Months pass somewhere in the world

My only sense of love waits

While planning my prison escape

But can never leave my cell

I am my own hell

Inside the world of all ours

Find a way to pass the hours

Loss of strength and April showers

Two and a half seasons of time

I long for what was once mine

Home in so many different words

A flash and back I return

Like I learned here

Life I must earn there

A seed is already planted

A sprout reaches for the sun

Belief of beauty granted

Without peace ensured there’s none.

                                              

26/4/2006 Jake Belmont