Gone, Never Faded

I watch breathless leaves edging foreign grounds and witness branches losing their warmth. Through the bareness of an autumn, disrupted when you have swayed away. I hear you standing fiercely, the most persuasive of all trees. I have withered and have finely cracked, though the song of your voice, it echoes through a coarse breeze. It was not the moment to fade, although your colours linger, they murmur through the fall. Still, I am like frost on a windowsill, in hibernation I will not wake. While I watch you dancing through snowy skies, I am taking photographs in my mind. My eyes abduct this moment, of the world you were unable to foresee. I will taste gusts of life, while I listen and feel for the smile that was forever close. I am a jaded storm, which you have known to sweep away. You tiptoed and have fallen, but footprints you have left behind. I am tangled and crisp. Blown away and torn, I am like paper through streams of rain. There are lucid skies after disaster falls, you are proof that there is a peeking sun. I am a shiver, while you are comforting winds. You are ever changing; yet remain truly precise.

I once feared the loss of the sound of your voice. I envied a memory that would never be misplaced. I was scared to close my eyes, as perhaps you would not be there as defined as I would have once remembered. I carry you as a feeling.

You are every single season.