Springfelt

For a contest. It was supposed to be four to six stanzas, hopefully the extra one doesn't get me disqualified. haha

As the earth turns to April, I start to feel springfelt,

the colors arise from winteresque grey.

As the temperature rises, my heart's frost melts,

but still that summery revival seems too far away.

I put my hours into the clock, waiting for summer,

and finally, the summery burning begins.

Summer never felt like so much of a bummer,

but it's better than the ice I was once frozen in.

I let summer joy bring a canvas sanctuary,

a fortress that I paint by my own oil design.

Summery heat and sweat, it's never contrary

to the heartburn, yet I'm feeling fine.

Then autumnal rotting begins to set in,

the summery days are far over.

The routine survival in a dog-eat-dog sin,

yet my standards have never been lower.

On comes November, a month I've always loved,

for it's such a hopeful month, it seems.

This annual ritual, kicking off a new month,

as earth returns to winteresque dreams.

The winter, oh how do I endure

the crystallizing cold and the redundant winds?

All I can do is, for all that it's worth,

surround myself with ethereal flint.

Yet sure enough, the spring does come,

the springfelt, start the cycle again.

I know it's not long before winter hides sun,

but the summer will make its amends.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Yes the cold of winter make us wish for the warm days of Spring then summer. You told a very good story in your words. Winter seem to last forever and summer to go too quickly. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[FlawedByDesign]

Rich with imagery and heartfelt; good rhymes, nice quatrain overall. You've described the changing of the seasons as a beautifully sad pain plaguing the heart. It becomes melancholy every time the "springfelt" feeling disappears and longs too feel it again in due time.

Nicely done.