Seasons

It’s a gentle sun that slants
On the oleander we planted last spring
When the hard road claimed your soul again
And I begged you to stay
Until pink blossoms hang from every branch
Smiling as we sip our wine under turquoise sky
And make gentle conversations about other people’s lives

 

Summer breeze came and you surfed the attic
Dusted old shoes and aired your jackets
Wait I said, the lilies are almost here

Straight rows of giant blossoms
Lining the crooked steps to our door
Dancing in tall vases, eavesdropping on our morning misgivings
As you brew the coffee and I make the toast

 

Monsoons brought an ache to your heart
It belongs to the dry plains you cried
When thunder echoed and purple lightning split the black sky
You sulked like a spoiled child
Give me four and a quarter weeks I implored
For the flaming frangipani will take your breath away
When the rain pauses and the garden drips wet
I will pour sweet jasmine tea from our best china set

 

Autumn glided in unnoticed
Long evenings uninterrupted by smooth silences
Newspapers full of grey headlines that bled
You flipped channels; remote, restless in your head
Pausing to say you just had to step away
While I watched for the fire red gulmohur

to burst into splendor and hold you still

 

As we slowly revolved around the sun
And you tilted further on our axis of life
Winter came and the hibiscus sighed
The giant lily and desert rose died
I walked down crooked steps and held your hand
My winter scarf the only color in our garden of love
I said goodbye and wished you well