The haunting of the lost season

Spring lay herself down in long grass

Exhausted from the leaving

Of a season

Which should be celebration

But finds itself instead

Squestered here on the edge of Summer

With nothing in bloom

Spring cries out

What is happening to me?

I no longer know the rhyme or reason of things

When seasons which should bring blossoming

Are instead attended by decay

I no longer know which way to turn

Why is every thing around me dying now

When it should be birthing?

Or is this death

Really the message of a new beginning

Upon deeper examination

It appears that I fell out of season

When summer should have arrived

I found myself instead

Trapped within deepest darkest winter

Losing for years

My way toward life

I am only then

The intimation of a summer that is ending

Before it even had a chance to begin

I hover on the brink of it

Not longer knowing which way to turn

Or what season

It truly is