you were all the seasons.

the comforting heat of the summer,

the golden falling leaves of the autumn,

the crisp chill of the winter,

the bright, delicate flowers of the spring. 

you gave me all the seasons,

and then took them away from me

first slowly, then all at once,

until i was left only with a crisp chill,

and a chill on its own is not pleasant.

i too was the weather.

i was the icy whirlwind of a blizzard,

the exhausted burning sun of a heatwave, 

the crashing waves of a tsunami,

the chaotic rush of a flood.

   people often stand in awe of my 

      individuality,

my destructive beauty. 

but nobody likes a blizzard.