The Four Seasons of the 21st Century

Buds emerged amongst the branches of the trees as we hosted our grand gathering. The chocolate fountain graced your entry and the liquor furthered your frenzy. Devil chocolate cake, a plethora of cookies, brownies, fudge, strawberries, and dirt. We engaged in the luscious activities of desert and wine and beer and flirting and destruction. . . The sun beat down upon my working back inciting the sweat to form beneath my suit. I grow weary of the sun, as I once desired. Each morning, I step through our broken door, escaping from the realities of a wife long gone astray into the harshness of a job long devoid of pleasure. Indebted to more companies than I can fully comprehend, I grow weary; I grow weary, and desiring of sleep. . . The leaves fallen onto the ground were trampled underfoot and blackened by the long-lived life. I raked them into a pile and rested my head upon their weight. I braced myself for sleep and what dreams may come. I endured myself they would be sweet and long like the hibernating squirrel. I slept. At peace. At last. . . I was born in the winter. Born again. I took flight to a warmer climate and set forth into the humidity and warmth of a rising Florida sun. I went alone to my new home where the golf course touched the ends of my home. Where the tropical trees rose towards heaven and worries were lost in a life long ago. . . #SpeakPoetry