Winter's Wanton Daughter : A Poem
I often think of the seasons all year round as one bitter dysfunctional family, with one member dominating over the rest for some period of time, which we experience as Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. Summer and Winter have two beautiful daughters, Spring, blooming and bright like her mother and Autumn, wanton, wild and carefree like her father. They are separated from each other for so long, and Autumn, closer to her father, cheers him up.
My father knows mercy not,
Mercurial gaze he rests sharp,
On all outgrown of life's slot,
His nimble fingers play the harp,
Ominous tune of end it coos,
An age's epitaph haunting loose.
His foe, the sun, shields away,
His mates, the clouds, prance in mirth,
He tightens clutches on luminous ray,
Peeking bravely at frozen hearth,
My friends, those trees, wept aghast,
At wilted limbs, heads half mast.
Them a joy, I promise in hope,
Patriarch, he, glowers hard in rage,
At fitful fancies never to cope,
My dreams he sternly moves to cage,
Mother's smile shines a brightened beam,
Saddened his resolve melts at the seam.
I wager a life filled with hype,
The trees unsure, glimpse bemused,
At aged hands rusting ripe,
Their offspring smartly part amused,
At freedom bequeathed by Winter's heir,
Gratefully smile at discarded care.
Father smirks in joyous defeat,
My charm, he never could surmount,
His fury chilled by blowing sleet,
Then peacefully stutters in wait and counts,
Those dreaded dawns till Mother returns again,
Bundling warmth and burning this pain