Your voice, the mist in my mornings,
Your eyes, the sunshine I'll always wait,
Your tears, the sprinkler to my drought,
Your soul, my pristine fate,
Your hands, the earth where I was sown,
My petals, then, young and frail,
But in your heart I have grown strong,
That no winds can ever flail
For you are the summer to my fall,
The winter to my spring,
The bite of lukewarm to my frost,
The pain when snowflakes sting,
You are the reason why seasons change,
Why I can't stay the same at all,
Your love has let me bloom all year,
And now it's time for me to fall
YOU ARE READING
Depth of Me •••#Wattys2018•••
Poetry"I'll write for what was left within the ashes; for the depth of me when all else is gone." cover drawing by: Carolina Roda
