Between Snowflakes and Forsythia

Between Snowflakes and Forsythia

The world would never be the same without you,
Shall I compare you to a summer’s day?
When metaphors hang ripe and dripping,
Like fruit in full blown pregnancy.

But every summer’s filled with fruit,
And sun and heat and thunderstorm,
Since time began its followed spring,
Then given way to autumn’s forms.

Ah, spring, that time unparalleled,
He surfs in on a windy tide,
With tapestries of Bradford Pears
To announce the happy groom and bride.

But weddings happen every spring,
And the flowers always bloom the same.
Oh, it’s beautiful for sure,
But the colors never change.

So it must be in fall, the golden time,
From which to draw the perfect line,
For painting a form so gracefully aging,
For finding the symbol, the hidden sign.

Yet in frustration I sheath my pen,
The same thing over again I cry,
To use a leaf to describe your splendor
Would be the most mundane of lies.

For you my fairest, purest Queen
Were born in a chasm between two times,
Between the clean, white slate of winter
And the time to begin growing things.

You came in a time of uncertainty,
A time that can be different with every year,
With yards all ablaze in Forsythia
Or snowflakes landing on frozen ground.

~J.D.S.

Happy Birthday my one true love. A snowflake right before spring is who you are. You are the metaphor for originality and I love you dearly for that.