Most people don’t 
a few do
but not many 
most go about 
many never stay
making this seem 
like the weather 
all too predictable 
such are seasons 

It approaches slowly 
like a shy
guy in bar
or lost puppy 
looking for approval 
more than attention 
asking many questions 
testing the waters 
seeing how deep 
then once comfortable 
begins to shine 
and I sit
basking in warmth 
of someone new 

It’s hard
to find 
shade beneath 
a tree
in winter 
for limbs
cover only 
a bit 
and to
miss leaves
means missing 
the summer 
so sun
I accept 
even if
less warm 

I’d much 
rather be 
the me
that I
am than
the me
that I 
was for 
that me
was the 
you me
and this 
me is
little more 
than I

I have 
a hole 
where whole 
used to 
be and
now standing 
on the 
lip of
this crater 
I wonder 
if I’ll
ever get 
to the 
other side