Between your excessive use of vocabulary
and the frost that freezes my lips together,
I fear the length of this coming winter.
Underneath the summer sun, we entwined
as easily as the vines of ivy would,
but now, as we crackle and snap in the cruel
and cooling air, we have come apart
like broken strings from rotten lyres that
were once made of the richest mahogany.
I will try to step lightly on your frozen ground,
but you will blow my skeletal leaves from
their once secure and emerald perch.
I mourn the passing of life and love,
and fear the frost and fruitlessness of these coming months.
This as an edge to it that I can't quite put my finger on at present... Like a bit of story in between the lines that I can't quite grasp (if they makes sense) like I just can't explain.. In a good way as there's a mysteriousness about it.
Take care x