Seasons Poem by Afzal Juneja

The street in the summer morning,
Pale yellow with bright sunshine,
Withered tree awaits the buds, so the heart of mine,
A Reflection from her glimpse conquered my eyes,
One portrait. I carved.
We talked. She laughed.

The street in the rainy afternoon,
Glitters with the mirror of raindrops formed,
Tree leaves glisten as buds began to blossom,
That shine of her wet hair and all wishes passed by,
One umbrella. I smiled.
Holding hands. She sighed.

The street in the autumn evening,
Honey orange with windy sunshine,
Vibrant tree with a dancing shoe, so the heart of mine,
The fragrance of her presence, a mystic spell to calm,
I proposed. She agreed.
She whispered. I believed.

The street in the winter night,
Misty silver with the light of the moon,
Tree flowers turned old and missed their time of noon,
One portrait I carved decades ago, now rest in my arm,
Trembling hands. She kissed.
She kissed. I lived.

The street in the spring midnight.
Pitch black with await for new sunshine,
Tree flowers aged and fallen, so the heart of mine,
On perpetual time scales of variants, Love's a constant,
We build. We lived.
We loved. We died.