Seasons of You

When I wake, your name
Is in every goosebump that
Rises against my skin in
The brisk morning chill.
You thought well of me once;
But writers—we are quite a
A dysfunctional lot, and I never
Could master the art of reading
You even as I wrote for you.

I was looking for you in the stars;
They were still out as I wrote this,
Watching Orion’s Belt strapped
Across the early wistful sky.
If forgiveness was autumn,
I’d fall for you all over again—
At your feet like a pile of leaves.

Every one of them is an admiration
I hold you in my thoughts,
And you know I get lost
In a strong wind, it carry’s
You are away and I am lost again.
Since we met I have seen you
In every star and season:
Be snow if you must,
But please don’t freeze
From me forever.

-Khushi Kaul