You Gave Me Spring, I Gave You Autumn

....putting down my pen

You Gave Me Spring, I Gave You Autumn

 

 

You were supposed to wait for me.

 

Your amber red hair,

smelling of baby shampoo

and the Shalimar you wore,

was musted by the Spring breeze

and I became entangled

on the day we met.

There was something about you,

an aura,

the way the air swayed around you

like a solar flare

arcing far into space

sending its mystery

to affect everything with light.

 

I picked up my pen that day.

 

It was a time of changes;

Spring, in shedding its Winter coat,

brings forth a desire for the new,

and we saw newness

in each other.

Our emotions matched

to flower’s colors,

swayed with Cherry blossoms,

and Marigold’s delights;

the greenness of our first kiss.

 

Old traditions are hard to break.

 

Evolution is sometimes punctuated

by revolution

and everything is thrown up for grabs.

Social norms burst open,

flames lick the sky,

as people try their best

to create the world anew.

It’s how we have gone from beasts

to consciously human(e).

The tradition of being a man,

broke slowly in me.

The equality we fought for

in the larger world,

had not yet reached my heart.

I held on too long.

 

You had brought me Spring,

color,

a vision of a red dawn;

while I brought you Autumn,

brownish leaves,

barren trees

and Winter’s snow.

 

You left.

 

I put down my pen that day.

 

Aztec Warrior/redzone 9.24.20

Author's Note

....thanks for reading

Reviews

[Ana Papaya]

This poem is incredibly beautiful from start to finish.
Every little detail captured so perfectly from the time you picked up the pen to the moment you put it down. I appreciate that little detail. The start and the closure. Capturing a relationship perfectly as the start and end of a season.

[redzone]

Thank you Ana.... I have only truly loved two women in my life(well there is a third, but that love was destined for failure before it really started) my first wife was one and I did start to write poetry for her.... I wish I could have loved her better, but she did give up on me... sometimes it is only through loss and mistakes you learn to be better...

Your comments are always wonderful Ana, thank you for them

[Ana Papaya]

That's true for most things I think. Our failures will ultimately make us better / smarter people. :)

[barleygirl]

For 6 years at the cafe, I've not been kind to the romantics, but you are one of the rare ones that intrigues me every time you go "romantic" (which you do often enuf & with amazing originality). I love how your romantic writes weave together the cerebral, the natural, & the sensual. All other depictions of romance seem lopsided to me, like its all about the physical or all about the infatuation, etc. But this poem is how to present a romantic message wherein all our human needs & longings are balanced. Plus, the trajectory of your love story is bittersweet & relatable. I've always been in a different season than anyone who was remotely interested in me! *wink! wink!* Fondly, Margie

[Vertigo Cat1111]

Okay, Woah. I have a lot to say, this is amazing. I absolutely LOVE the contrast between 'I picked up my pen that day' and 'I put down my pen today.' That was great. I loved reading this whole thing, the way the relationship feels like a season. The imagery you painted here was beautiful. And I like the mention of the aura, and how it feels so strong. This is so beautiful and sweet, but you keep remembering that he said 'you were supposed to wait for me' at the beginning. It makes it hurt even more. It's heartbreaking, but I love it. Keep writing!

[h d e rushin]

it is how the very velocity of poetry in which a person might try to look toward familiar landscapes from the windows of our speeding world, sees the changing of seasons. Which like a kiss, is so personal an osculation that each lover you might have, like each season, requires so different a protrusion of the lips. If each time someone left me deformed and injured (winter) and returned when my wings were brown with blood and full of life (spring), I would cull that orthodoxy and choose only the finer moments for my truth. But heartbreak hurts. And however much you square your shoulders to face the eventuality, it still hurts....Poetry works best when the decent, moral writer takes no advantage of the conspicuous and allows the reader to press forward with their own beliefs.....great poem.....dana

[Patricia Wedel]

dear Curt... Spring is a time to be smitten... Summer is a time for reflection... Autumn is a reminder that leaves promises: and Winter is a time to be under cover to dream about flowers bursting once again in spring. gently, Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

this is so sad...
and I have always loved autumn as my favorite season...but here we go from new life given, to old life taken...
it is like taking a walk in fall and stepping on leaves of sadness that crunch beneath the feet and heart.
j.