Words of a Poet

4 Seasons of My Heart 

The sun beating down
the heat makes me sweat
Just as if my heart was melting
and this is only the first stage.

My heart turns to the color of the leaves
they are almost identitcal
Brown and dying
barely hanging on
and soon to fall
either to be stepped on…
or swept up
and thrown away

The remains soon frozen
ice cold
buried in the snow.
I was never one to enjoy holidays
my heart sits alone.

As the season changes
I’m “sprung” with the false hope.
everything around new
A new beginning
and maybe a new life
its that false hope
that keeps me going…
from season to season.

By Matthew Henrickson

Dated Sept 24, 2004