“Does Summer know we meet this way?”

Winter asked of Fall.

“He knows that night must follow day,”

She said, and then a pause.

“But must we always speak of this,

when time is rushing past?”

“Forgive me, dear,” he softly hissed

“old habits and all that.”

Gently Fall did take his hands,

then smiled and held his eyes.

The moment hung sans gravity,

then Winter smiled and sighed.

“Autumn, friend, my precious one,”

He spoke in waves of calm.

“So long I think of ‘might have beens’

as darkness claims my dawns.

You are the warmth that greets my youth,

the hope that fills my sleep.

I cannot help considering…”

“I know,” she said, “but please-

Let us make the most of this

and not let dreams run wild.

You know as well as I, my friend,

that Spring is Summer’s child."