Sonnet 6

The seasons-like most things-hold thoughts of you.
The chaos they can bring may change my life.
When no one can perceive what you'll both do;
The tension tends to cut deep (like a knife.)

The dark days always come when you are gone;
So swiftly theres no sun, no neon lights.
If I can't calculate the coming dawn,
I still won't hesitate to see the sights.

But that wind blows much colder every year
(And when you turn your shoulder I get chilled.)
I cannot waste each season waiting here,
To find that I am freezing from the thrill.

        Your cool warmth ebbs and flows persistently,
        And you will always know the way to me.